Fan Fiction vs Real Life
by Virgo Writer
Summary: Drabbles collected under the theme of fanfiction v real life. After life: In fanfiction, the best love stories don't have endings. In real life, nothing lasts forever . . . pokeshipping.
1. REAL Boys

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

I was sitting on the bus, thinking about . . . nothing . . . when this distinction occurred to me between fanfic boys, and real boys, and strangely out of it spawned this odd dialogue between Ash and Misty, and thus . . . well . . . this.

A collection (hopefully) of drabbles based on the distinction between fanfics and real life, starting with the above. I can't guarantee that there will be updates or anything like that, but this first one should amuse you. It will depend on whether or not inspiration strikes. Although, if anyone comes up with an amusing distinction, let me know and if it inspires me, it will be done.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon.

* * *

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: REAL Boys

Fan fiction vs. Real life #1:

In fan fiction, boys won't say 'I love you' unless they _really_ mean it.

In real life, boys will say they're in love with _your dog_ if that's the ticket into your pants . . . I mean heart.

* * *

"You know, pikachus are my favourite Pokémon," Misty said suddenly, causing the two boys to glance at her in surprise. She gave a quick squeeze of the Pokémon in her arms as though to somehow prove her adoration of its species as a whole, and then turned her eyes in a meaningful way on the younger of the two boys. "They're just so adorable and brave and strong."

"Are you sure, Misty?" Brock asked skeptically, his eyes narrowed in confusion. "I thought you liked tentacruel best."

"Nope, pikachus are the best," she reiterated. "Don't you think so, Ash?" she asked hopefully, smiling prettily at the younger boy.

He shrugged noncommittally at her comment, and thought it best to simply ignore the look that he would never have the prowess to understand. "I guess they're ok," he replied. "I mean, I like _my_ pikachu, but I wouldn't say they're the be all and end all of all Pokémon."

"Aren't pikachus your favourite, too?" she asked him, her face dropping a little.

"No way," he replied. "Just 'cos I've got a pikachu doesn't mean they're my favourite. _Pikachu_ is my favourite, but not pikachus generally. Not even close. I mean, if someone came up to me and told me they had a Pokéball with my favourite Pokémon in it, I think I'd be kinda disappointed if it was a pikachu.

"Unless it was a girl pikachu," he added as an afterthought. "Although I'd still be really disappointed, but if it was a girl pikachu then we could breed them and I could trade the pichus for something really awesome, or I could give them to Brock and he'd be able to use them to pick up chicks."

"That's an excellent idea!" Brock cheered, jumping to his feet. "Pikachu, come with me," he demanded as he snatched the electric mouse from Misty's grasp. "We're gonna go scouting for hot chicks."

"What is your favourite, then?" she asked him, genuinely curious about the answer. She quickly recovered, however, continuing along with the plan. "I mean, 'cos I bet that's my favourite to."

"Really, Myst?" he asked her, half of him excited about the shared interest, but the other half still a little skeptical. "Even if it was a fire type?"

"Hey," she cried indignantly, "I like fire Pokémon."

"Name one?" Ash countered.

"Well, I like Gyarados and he knows flame thrower," she argued smugly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ash scoffed, but smiled all the same. "That's 'cos he's part _dragon_ type, Misty. I mean a real one, like moltress or magma."

"Well, I helped that time with Charmander, didn't I?" she asked, looking proud in her response.

"Yeah, but that's only 'cos you're a good person," he responded.

"That doesn't change . . ." she began to argue, but trailed off as his words sunk in for her. "Ash, do you really think I'm a good person?" she asked him quietly, her whole demeanour becoming suddenly shy.

"Well, yeah, I guess," he answered awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, of course I do, Misty," he said a bit more certainly, realizing that he had finally said something right around her. "You're always helping people out and stuff. And you've saved my butt a bunch of times and done lots of selfless things like that. I've always thought you were a good person, Misty."

She beamed at his words, her face lighting with a happy smile. "Oh, Ash . . ." she cooed gently.

"And, Misty . . . my favourite Pokémon," he said quickly, while he still had his nerve up, "you don't have to worry 'cos it's not a fire or bug-type or anything gross like that."

He stood up, sending her a sweet, lopsided grin that sent her heart racing with anticipation. As those chocolate eyes met her own, she felt as though she was the centre of the entire universe and couldn't think of anything better than this.

He said only two words before disappearing in a fluster of blushes and excuses.

"It's tentacruel."

~FIN~


	2. Inebriated

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

I didn't think that I would actually do another of these, but this one came to mind. Obviously the portrayal of drunks in fanfiction is pretty poor, but these drabbles aren't meant to criticise that and are merely a means of collecting them. I was simply inspired, and have no real feelings about the issue either way (mostly 'cos I think I've fallen into the same trap once or twice myself and it would by hypocritical for me to say I was against it).

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon.

* * *

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: Inebriated

Fan fiction vs. Real life #2:

In fan fiction, drunk people say the darndest things.

In real life, drunk people throw up on your rug and then try to use your cat/dog to clean up the mess.

* * *

"Misty, you're pretty," Ash slurred drunkenly, his eyes half-closed a he tried to look meaningfully into the redheads eyes. She didn't respond, and Ash seemed to take that as a cue to continue before his Dutch courage (as Brock had called it) wore off.

"Like _rrreeeaaalll_ pretty, Myst," he continued, drawing out his words now. "Ibet you don' get it very much, but that's pro'lly cos they don' realize how pr – hic – pretty yous are, _Mmmiiiisssstttttyyyy_."

"Ash – " she replied, an admonishing tone in her voice. He took no heed and continued on unabated now that he was on a roll.

"You're like pretty like . . . um . . . like sssomething real pretty, you know?" he told her, looking pleased with himself for coming up with such an incredible simile. "You've gots to be like the sssixth pr-pre'iest girl in this room right now."

Misty cocked an eyebrow in his direction as a sign that he was to elaborate.

Ash continued, not even aware that being the 'sixth prettiest girl in the room' (especially one in which they were currently the only two occupants) was one of the poorest compliments he could have given her. "Is cos your sisters are here," he explained. "You're pretty like them, but not the sssame. They're pretty likes dolls or ssomethin'. Yous pretty like . . . like normal pretty, Myst."

"Ash," she tried again, in that same admonishing tone.

"No, Myst, I mean it in a good way," he defended. "I like that you're normal pretty."

"Ash," she tried for the third time, her voice raising louder this time.

Ash simply continued on his tirade about how she was pretty, but not in the conventional sense. He explained how she was pretty but in a really unconventional way that made her borderline beautiful and that anyone who didn't realize that just simply didn't know any better and that _he_ thought she was so pretty that she could probably be considered beautiful without needing the borderline part to qualify it - although perhaps not so well articulated.

"Ash, you're not drunk," she said tiredly, her voice heavy with exasperation.

"No, Misty, you're wr . . ." he trailed off as her words sunk into his brain. "Hey. Tha's right. I'm not drunk, Misty," he agreed, making a series of out of character elaborate gestures as he spoke. "Maybe you're drunk, but me, I'm not drun 'cos I've only had this one bottle of wine here and I feel fine."

"No, Ash, seriously," she deadpanned, giving him an unamused look. "You're not drunk, and that's not wine. It's grape juice."

"Yeah ssssso?" he questioned, apparently moving into angry drunk mode.

"You can't get drunk on grape juice."

"Oh," Ash replied, looking sheepish as her conclusion sunk in. His words lost their slur, and he gave her an almost timid look. "You sure?"

"Positive," she replied simply. "Why were you pretending to be drunk?"

"It was Brock's idea, but I didn't feel like getting drunk for real so I improvised," Ash explained. "He said I should get you drunk and tell you . . . " Ash trailed off. "Crap, I think I did that first part all wrong."

"You think?' she replied sardonically. She took a deep breath and gave him a serious look that let him know he was going to like the next thing she had to say to him. "Ash, why-"

He cut her off quickly, saying the first thing that came to his head. "You know, I quite like this grape juice," he told her. "I guess I wouldn't mind alcohol so much seeing as I like grape juice."

Misty shook her head. "Wine and grape juice aren't really the same thing," she told him simply.

"So wine doesn't really taste like grape juice?" he questioned disappointedly.

"Sometimes, but not really. Most of it tastes more like vinegar than grape juice."

Ash made a face. "Then why do people like drinking it so much?"

She shrugged in response, putting their drinks down beside her. "It's probably because they like being drunk so much," Misty explained. "I think that's why my sisters do it. They said it's 'dis-inhibiting'.

"I think they just like to use it as an excuse to do things they wouldn't normally do," she finished with a scoff.

"What sort of things?" Ash asked, his curiosity getting the better of him once again.

"You know," she shrugged once again, assuming Ash must have been at least mildly familiar with the effects of alcohol. "Alcohol is supposed to take away your inhibitions, so you can do things you'd normally stop yourself from doing because you were afraid of the consequences, or because you knew it was wrong, or because you just wouldn't be brave enough to do it on your own."

"Oh, ok," he responded, seemingly understanding her explanation. The two sat in silence, caught up in their own thoughts and contemplations. It was nearly ten minutes before Misty finally decided to break the silence that had dropped between them.

"Ash?" she asked quietly, waiting for a response to confirm he was listening before she continued. He nodded once as a sign of his undivided attention. "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

Ash blushed brilliantly, his mouth working silently as he tried to find the words. He glanced at her quickly, before turning away and uttering a single word. There was really no point lying this time, as he had given himself almost entirely away, and he supposed there were things worse than the truth.

"Yeah."

Misty grinned and scooted slightly closer to him, the action causing a startled Ash to turn in her direction. Her eyes held a mischievous look as she spoke. "And what would you do right now if you were _really_ drunk?"

Ash's face paled at her words, and he gulped conspicuously as he met his gaze. "Y-you mean . . . something that I . . . that I wouldn't usually do?" he asked her, the fear evident in his voice. "S-something I would normally be afraid to do because of the consequences? S-something I knew was wrong and wouldn't be brave enough to do on my own?"

He was looking directly at her as she nodded her head slowly, never once turning her eyes from his gaze. "I . . . um . . . I-I uh . . . don't know," he lied, blushing even brighter than before as a few options crossed his mind.

Misty smiled at his response, a light giggle passing her lips before she suddenly leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his cheek. Ash jumped back in surprise, letting out a frightened cry that only engendered more giggling from Misty.

"Wh-what'd you do that for?" he asked once he had recovered sufficiently to form thoughts and subsequently words regarding the matter.

Misty just shrugged her shoulders indifferently, that grin never leaving her lips. "Don't know," she replied, standing slowly as she spoke. "Maybe I'm a little drunk myself.

"Or maybe I think you're pretty too."

~ FIN ~


	3. Hopeless Romantic

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

This one was actually inspired in part by Reasons of the Heart. Looking back, I realize that some of Ash's behaviour was borderline stalker and so this one is dedicated to the borderline stalker in all of us.

Now to fully appreciate this one-shot you need to download and listen to the following songs in the order stated (Song title; Artist). I call it the 'Stalker Sountrack' and many of these songs are considered the worst love songs by numerous critics. I unofficially like to think of this fic as the 'Worst Songfic Ever'. Don't worry, they're only snippets not full songs.

1. Amazed; Lonestar  
2. Everywhere; Michelle Branch  
3. Every Breath You Take; The Police  
4. Right Here Waiting; Richard Marx  
5. All I've Ever Wanted; Mariah Carey  
6. I Will Die For You; Garbage  
7. I Will Possess Your Heart; Death Cab for Cutie  
8. What Makes a Man; Westlife (like I could resist)  
9. Iris; Goo Goo Dolls

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon.

Before I begin, I just want to say that the 'distinction' on this one is a _very_ _broad_ generalization, but the unexaggerated version just didn't have the same panache. In truth, there is a fine line between secret admirer and stalker, and where that line sits is going to be different for everyone. As a general rule, you've probably crossed the line if your 'admiration' amounts to some kind of felony e.g. a note on your front door is reasonable (not a crime because of implied license unless it has been revoked) where as a note on your bedroom door is a trespass; not only have you committed a crime, but you've also committed a tort. That's like a double whammy, and if they can't get you for the crime, they'll get you for the tort like they did with OJ.

Point is, secret admirer fics are awesome and provided that you don't take them to extremes, you should keep 'em coming.

* * *

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: Hopeless Romantic

Fan fiction vs. Real life #3:

In fan fiction, sending a person love notes, taking their picture when they're not looking, knowing their schedule by heart, finding out all their favourite things, and pretty much following them around like a love sick puppy/houndoom is considered romantic.

In real life, this is considered stalking.

* * *

Brock had always considered himself a romantic at heart, in fact, he considered it one of his more attractive features (he even made sure to mention in personal ads and online dating services as a means of attracting the fairer sex). And so when Ash came to him for advice on how to woo a certain romantic redhead, Brock considered himself _the man_ for the job.

And that was how Ash ended up in a prison cell with a restraining order slapped on him, so rigorous that there was only one way out of it . . .

"But, Misty, I love you!" Ash pleaded with the redhead as the police officers and attorney helped her with the final pieces of paper work to give effect to the judge's order. Once taken effect, Ash would be barred from Cerulean City for life (unless he survived Misty by more than fifteen years, which was unlikely given his lifestyle), and his own town if Misty came to visit his mother or any of their friends there. If they were invited to the same party (as the judge conceded that they had many mutual acquaintances) Ash was not allowed in the same room as Misty (which was fine with him as long as Misty wasn't in the room with all the food) and generally expected to avoid these parties unless it was completely necessary. Despite the necessities of his work as the Pokemon Master, Ash was not allowed near any information of or concerning the Cerulean Gym and it's gym leader and was barred from asking anybody he knew about the gym leaders going ons.

In fact, the restraining order was so harsh that he was practically banned from saying her name unless it was in reference to a particularly foggy day (and even then it had to be _particularly_ foggy). Now with such extreme measures, I'm sure you're all dying to know what exactly Ash Ketchum (and Brock Slate vicariously) could have done to offend her so badly.

It began, as some of the most intriguing situations do, with a confession of sorts and . . . well, you'll see

* * *

Ash walked into the room in a sombre mood that immediately caught Brock's attention. The teenager's usually endless stores of energy seemed lost to him in that moment as he slinked into the room weighed down by an overbearing dark presence. This was not the Ash Ketchum Brock knew, and so he couldn't help but be worried.

"Ash, what's wrong?" the young breeder questioned. "What happened?"

"I told Misty I liked her," Ash answered, his tone heavy and grey.

Brock stopped his worry for a moment, a grin taking over his face. Sure it wasn't quite the full confession they had been aiming for – 'like' being quite mild in comparison to Ash's true feelings for his redheaded best friend – but it was a start, and it seemed only good things could flow from it now that everything was out in the open. It only took Brock a moment more to realize that this had not been the case.

Something appeared to have gone seriously wrong. Ash should have been over the moon, after all, everyone knew that Misty returned his feelings in equal fervour, but instead Ash looked like someone had just told them they were cancelling Christmas. This was certainly cause for concern.

"H-how . . . I mean, what exactly happened?" Brock asked, struggling to find the right words. Ash threw himself despondently into a nearby seat, offering no answer to the question and so Brock continued, desperately trying to make some sense of the circumstances. "I don't understand. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, and we all thought, you know, I was so sure and –"

"She didn't believe me," Ash deadpanned, cutting off Brock in the middle of his confused rant. "I told her I liked her, and she didn't believe me."

"Ash, what exactly did you say to her?" Brock asked, thinking maybe that was the key to this entire situation and if he could just fix that maybe everything would be ok.

"I said 'Misty, I like you'. Simple as that," Ash replied. "You were the one who said to go straight to the point and I did and she said she didn't believe me."

"What!" Brock gaped in surprise, unsure of Ash's words. He couldn't believe that after finally hearing the words she had been hoping to hear for almost eight years that this would be her response. "What exactly did she say?"

"Let's see," Ash replied almost scathingly, his mood souring as he recalled the intricacies of Misty's rejection. He counted the various phrases off on his fingers. "I don't believe you. You've got to be shittin' me.

"_Ash Ketchum, if this is some kind of joke then it isn't the least bit funny,_" he said in a high pitched voice that would have made for a poor impersonation of Misty if not for the imposing stance and hard glare that accompanied it.

"When I asked her why, she said something about showing my feelings and 'you figure it out'," he finished inconsolably.

Brock rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he absorbed Ash's retelling of the event, neither knowing that Ash's paraphrasing would be his downfall. "She never said she didn't like you back," Brock encouraged rather than assuring Ash directly that Misty returned his feelings. "I think . . . I think she just wants proof," he finished with a smile as a plan started to form in his head.

"Proof?" Ash questioned, almost scoffing as he spoke. "Didn't telling her I liked her count for anything?"

"Well . . ." Brock responded, choosing his words carefully. "You know what Misty's like. She's into romance and poetry and kind of old fashioned when it comes to boys and stuff. You've got to sweep her off her feet like they do in fairytales.

"She just wants you to _woo_ her," Brock finished almost smugly, please with himself for deducing the root of the problem. "And I have the perfect plan . . ."

* * *

"Thanks, Nurse Joy," Misty said before she hung up the phone. She frowned wondering where the two boys could be at this time if not the Pokémon Centre, and now regretted not trying to patch things up with Ash earlier.

She knew it was her fault. Her pride had gotten the better of her when she realized the discrepancy in their feelings – she was, admittedly, in love with him, while he merely deigned to like her – and so she had let things fester rather than clearing it up at the time. She realized now that she could live with 'like' and hope it would eventually turn to love, even if it meant waiting a lifetime. She'd rather have 'like' than nothing at all.

At the time, however, she had not been nearly so insightful and because she was Misty and he was Ash, things had escalated and Ash had stormed off dejectedly. But it had started almost pleasantly and she never would have thought things would turn out the way they did.

*FLASHBACK*

_"Ireallyloveyoumisty," Ash said suddenly, his words both rushed and hushed so that Misty didn't catch even a syllable of what he had to say._

_"What, Ash?" she asked, turning to look him in the eye._

_His breath left him with a loud 'woosh' as their eyes met, along with any courage he may have accumulated up to that point. "I said I r-really l-l-l-lo-like you," he stuttered, eventually settling on a word and emotion quite different (and some would say inferior) to his first choice. "I like you, Misty."_

_Misty's first reaction was disbelief. She looked to the heavens in awe muttering the words 'I don't believe this' and 'you've got to be shittin' me', and looking almost exactly like a stunned mullet._

_Her next reaction was paranoia. She turned her attention back to Ash with a hard stare, hands poised on her hips in a gesture intended to intimidate. "This better not be a joke, Ash Ketchum, because it definitely _isn't_ funny," she told him darkly, her eyes carefully analyzing him for clues that would give away his intentions. "If you're just saying that as a joke, so help me, I will cause you immeasurable pain in ways you can't even begin to imagine."_

_"Misty, I'm not joking," he assured her. "I like you. Why don't you believe me?"_

_There was that word again, and the reason for her next reaction: disappointment. Ash _liked_ her, but she was madly, truly, deeply and desperately in love with him. Even if he liked her a lot, they were still talking about two different emotions on the spectrum of positive affectivity. He had a long way to go to catch her up._

_This in turn led to hurt that Misty was far too prideful to admit to, and so her outward reaction to Ash's question – why don't you believe me – was anger._

_"Well, what am I supposed to think?" she asked, flaring up with anguish and indignation. "It's not like you've ever given any outward signs of liking me before now. For the last eight years your favourite term of endearment has been 'scrawny'. If that is supposed to be any indication of your feelings for me, I'd say you're definitely in love with me, Ketchum," she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes with her last comment._

_Ash flushed a brilliant scarlet at her words, but Misty was too annoyed to notice. Put out by the fact that Misty was not responding to his confession in any of the ways he thought or hoped she would, Ash returned her anger with equal ferocity._

_"Maybe if you showed me a little affection every now and then, I'd be apt to believe you," Misty added drolly, not even looking in his direction as she feigned nonchalance._

_"I'm plenty nice to you," Ash responded in kind, a growl resting in the back of his throat. "What are you even talking about?"_

_Misty gave him one last smirk before turning on her heal. "You figure it out," she answered, leaving him to mull on his words. _

_She walked away coolly, waiting for Ash to storm off back to the Pokémon Centre where he would later receive some of the worse advice in the history of advice. When she was sure he was gone, she dropped down the floor, weighed heavy with emotion, and let out all the pain she hadn't been willing to share with Ash._

*END FLASHBACK*

It took her the better part of three hours to come to her very mature conclusions and realize that for the first time in her life, she was actually going to have to apologize to Ash Ketchum. Sadly, to her great misfortune, Ash was not available for her apology, and it was just her luck that he would disappear right when she needed to talk to him.

Some might say it was ironic. It's not. Merely unfortunate and a little predictable. The true irony here was that Ash Ketchum was taking romantic advice for Brock Slate – a man whose failed attempts to get with _any_ girl could probably fill a book the size of the OED.

Of course, Misty didn't know that and went to sleep peacefully that night not dwelling upon her own misfortune and the irony (in the colloquial/modern sense and therefore not ironic at all) surrounding her situation. It was unfortunate that Misty was such a heavy sleeper, for it was on that same night that Ash and Brock put the latter's plant into fruition.

A quick glance at Misty's day planner was added to their prior knowledge of Misty's daily schedule (her OCD tendencies falling perfectly into Brock's scheme) and gave them everything they needed to pull things off. After pilfering some of Misty's gym stationary they were ready to begin, neither suspecting that it would end so . . . unexpectedly.

* * *

The first note came early the next morning. Violet and Lily had thoughtfully brought the mail in when they returned in the wee hours from a night on the town and then slipped it magnanimously under their little sisters door when they realized none of it was for them, or particularly interesting. It was this act that prevented Misty's suspicions from being raised prematurely as the note Ash and Brock had slipped under the door earlier blended in with the circulars, bills and other gym matters.

The first note was almost sweet and at the time she thought nothing of it. As a gym leader and 'Sensational Sister' (as much as she despised the title) this wasn't the first time she had been the recipient of 'fan mail'. She didn't even notice with the first note that the paper it was written on bore the Cerulean Gym watermark or anything even mildly suspicious. Part of her had even entertained the possibility that it might be from Ash, but she quickly dismissed this thought, smiling as she re-read the note one last time before folding it away.

_

* * *

My dearest Misty,_

_"I've never been this close  
To anyone or anything  
I can hear your thoughts  
I can see your dreams . . .  
I want to spend the rest of my life  
With you by my side  
Forever and Ever"_

_Your Knowing Secret Admirer_

* * *

The second note came in her cereal. The tone was very different from the first, beginning with a jocular 'Hey Misty, here's your prize' before quoting some soppy love song and initialling it in reference to the previous signature (or so she assumed). This time she almost convinced herself that it was Ash and began to analyze the note for any clues that might confirm her suspicions.

Although the tone was right, the handwriting was not. It was familiar, but not enough for her say whom it belonged to. In truth, it was Brock's left hand scrawl, which she had only seen on a couple of occasions due to a preference for his right – yes Brock is ambidextrous and he is _that_ awesome.

Upon careful scrutiny, she noted something that sent her reasoning off in a different direction – it was then that she noticed the familiar watermark along with a pair of luvdiscs in the bottom corner. This was Daisy's personal stationary, and she shook her head at her sister for being so careless.

But still she smiled. She would go along with things for now and catch Daisy out later. For now she appreciated the sentiment, figuring her oldest sister ws trying to cheer her up after the morose mood she had been in post-Ash. She'd thank her later in secret, but not before she had Daisy publicly slip up and outted her in front of the twins.

_

* * *

Hey Misty – here's your prize_

_"You're everywhere to me  
And when I catch my breath it's you I breath  
You're everything I know  
That makes me believe  
I'm not alone  
You're everyone I see  
So tell me  
Do you see me?"_

_Your K .S .A_

* * *

The third note was when Misty stopped smiling. She had just stepped out of the shower to find a note attached to her mirror that she swore had not been there before (thus the joys and perils of having a psychic Pokémon at your disposal). It was creepy and the note itself even creepier, and now that she thought about it, the other two had the same borderline stalker tone to them.

This sent Misty reeling as her mind turned to a new culprit.

"Lily! Violet!" she screamed as she stormed from the bathroom to the twins' adjoining rooms. The two stumbled out of their bedrooms at the same time, cringing as they held their hands to their heads.

"Misty, like, please don't yell," Lily moaned, tensing as her own voice caused her pain. Violet just nodded mutely in assent, not even risking her own voice.

"Oh please," Misty sneered, her eyes narrowed at the two. "I know it was you two so you can quit the 'I'm so hungover I can barely function' act."

"Misty, what are you on about?" Lily questioned, refusing to admit that she was in fact hungover. Misty thrust the note in Lily's face by way of explanation. Lily groaned. "My head hurts too much to read. Just like tell us what is says."

With a glare, Misty did as she was told.

Violet frowned and Lily voiced their mutual thoughts aloud. "Baby sister, that is totally creepy and you should totally show it to Dais' before you call the cops."

"Why would I call the cops on my own sisters?" Misty replied snarkily. "I know you two were behind it."

The two were silent as Misty's words sunk in. "You think it was us," Violet concluded with a gasp of surprise. "Baby sister, we would like never-"

"Whaever," Misty replied cutting off Violet's protests. "Don't even try to deny it because I know it was you two and I'm not fooled by your fake hangover act." Before they could say more she turned on her heal, leaving her two sisters gaping at her scathing response.

"Vi," Lily said quietly, waiting for her sister to reply with an equally quiet 'hmm'. "I think we should got talk to Diasy. I think Misty has a stalker."

_

* * *

Dearest Misty,_

_"Every breath you take  
Every move you make  
Every bond you break  
Every step you take  
I'll be watching you . . .  
Oh can't you see  
You belong to me  
How my poor heart aches  
With every step you take"_

_From K .S .A_

* * *

Misty stormed out of the house, internally fuming at her two sisters who she would have forgiven (eventually) if they had just admitted that they were the ones behind this stupid prank and let it be. She headed to the supermarket because it was a Tuesday morning, and that was what she did on Tuesday mornings with her unchanging list stored in her memory.

However, she couldn't get her 'Knowing Secret Admirer' out of her head, and was so distracted by it that she actually picked up the brand name detergent when the budget brand was just as good. She was almost like a walking zombie as she walked through the aisles, her body re-enacting the memory of prior visits.

As always, she eventually made her way to checkout five and proceeded to collect her final purchase. This she considered her secret shame – she was addicted to 'Beedrill Buzz Bite' chocolate bars and preferred them even to Cerulean's own 'Marrilicious Mouthful' and the gourmet Sinnoh variety. She blamed Ash for getting her hooked on the chocolate bars, tricking her as only Ash could.

The point, of course, was that Misty's preference for this particular chocolate bar was not something that her sisters would have known. Violet and Lily might have realized she would be going shopping that morning, and Daisy would have known that she never went to any checkout but five, but none of them knew that she always grabbed two chocolate bars when she went shopping, and always from the bottom of the display box.

Her hands shook as she pulled out the piece of paper lining the bottom of the box. She recognised the stationary and reluctantly read the words on the note in spite of everything inside that told her not to.

This note changed things. This note meant it wasn't Daisy and it wasn't Lily or Violet. It was someone who was intimately aware of her peculiarities; someone who knew how she shopped and where she shopped and the particulars of her list. These were things that she thought nobody knew about her, and yet here it was as plain as day, her orderly life being used against her.

And so she did the only reasonable thing you could do in such a situation: RUN.

_

* * *

My Misty,_

_"I hear the laughter, I taste the tears  
But I can't get near you now  
On can't you see it baby  
You drive me crazy  
Wherever you go, whatever you do  
I will be right here waiting for you  
Whatever it take  
Oh how my heart breaks  
I will be right here waiting for you"_

_K .S .A_

* * *

"Daisy!" Misty cried out as she entered the gym. "Daisy, I-"

Daisy rushed into the foyer, cutting off her little sister as she wrapped her arms around the teenage girl. "Thank god you're like here, Misty," she said with a sigh of relief. "We were like worried sick. After what Lily and Vi' told me, I didn't know what to think. Where were you, baby sister?"

"I was shopping," Misty answered, close to tears. "Daisy, I-"

"Miss. Waterflower," a voice interrupted, "we found another."

"Where like was it?" Daisy asked.

"With your sister's Pokéballs. It's very strange – there seems almost an order to them, as though the perpetrator expected her to move from one object to the next in a certain way," a young man explained.

"What's he talking about?" Misty asked, knowing the answer already.

"Misty, this is Detective Sergeant Ormiston," Daisy explained calmly in order not to frighten her sister. "I called the police after you left. Lily and Vi' told me about the note you got."

Misty nodded slowly. "There was one at the store," she told her sister in a small voice.

She handed over the piece of paper, and Daisy gasped as she read the words. Daisy immediately handed it over to the police officer and herded Misty into the lounge where Violet and Lily were waiting. They pounced on their baby sister, coddling her in a way they hadn't done since the death of their parents as almost the entire Cerulean police force searched the premises for more secret notes.

For Ash, this was the beginning of the end.

_

* * *

Myst, _

_All I've ever wanted is you  
Everything I do is for you  
You are every part of me  
And I don't want to face  
Another day  
Alone without your face  
Cause all I've ever wanted  
Is you  
And you alone"_

_K .S .A_

* * *

Meanwhile, as the Waterflower residence was being overrun with all manner of crime fighters, Ash and Brock were at the Pokémon centre reviewing their . . . scheme.

"So how many did you make?" Ash asked, glancing at a pleased looking Brock.

"Didn't you count them before you placed them?" Brock replied, bewildered.

Ash just shrugged. "Didn't think to at the time," he replied nonchalantly. "I was just trying to get them all in place before she got up. You know how early she is on Tuesdays."

With a shake of his head, Brock finally answered Ash's question. "About ten from memory," Brock answered. "Check the CD. The only ones I didn't use were 'My Heart Will Go On' and 'Eleanor'."

"Ten?" Ash half gaped, blinking bewilderedly at his older companion. "Isn't that a little over kill?"

"Not really," Brock replied with thoughtful certainty. "I think it was downplaying that got you into this mess. If she hadn't been so _underwhelmed_ by your last confession we wouldn't _need_ ten songs to prove your love to her."

"I don't love her," Ash protested unconvincingly, his cheeks turning a fetching shade of pink that would complement any young adult. "I just really like her in a romantic sort of way."

_"Riiigggghhhhtttt_," Brock drawled out in that sarcastic way that told the other person that they weren't the least bit fooled. If Brock had eyes, he would roll them.

"What's that suppose to me?" Ash frowned. It wasn't like he didn't know. Ash knew what that 'right' meant. And even more than that, Brock knew that he knew what was meant. But the thing that they both understood, was that before Ash could admit to Brock that he _was_ in love with Misty Waterflower, there was someone who deserved to hear it first.

Ash sighed aloud. "How much longer before I can go see her?" he asked. "I mean, she should have found them all by now, right?"

"I think so," the older male replied. "What time was she going to empty the dish washer?"

Ash glanced at his digital watch. "She usually puts it on at eleven forty-five, so she should find the last one by one," he answered, recalling Misty's rather neurotic scheduling. "I think she-"

Ash was cut off mid-speech by an inquisitive tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the Cerulean City Officer Jenny trying to gain his attention.

"Excuse me. Are you Ash Ketchum?" she asked rather harshly, giving him a stern look that Ash knew by now didn't necessarily mean he was in trouble.

"Oh no, Officer Jenny," Brock answered before Ash could, jumping to her side and holding her hand in his own. "You've got the wrong man. I'm the one you want!"

"Are _you_ Ash Ketchum?" she asked, giving Brock a suspicious stare. "Hey don't I know you?" she asked a moment later. "You're that kid I arrested a couple of days ago for defacing one of our recruitment posters."

Ash didn't even bat an eyelash; he had – after all – been there when Brock tried to change the contact number for his own personal cell phone.

"I'm Ash Ketchum," he said quickly, stepping in before his friend was arrested once again. "What can I do for you, Officer Jenny?"

"I just need you to come with me," she said sternly, refusing to elaborate.

"Ok," Ash shrugged, getting to his feet. "Brock, d-"

"Your friend can stay here," she added, cutting him off before he could ask Brock to accompany him.

"Right," Ash frowned. "Can you look after Pik?" he asked. "I'll be back soon," he added as he left.

Officer Jenny didn't bother to correct him. After what he had done to the Cerulean Gym Leader, they'd be locking him up and throwing away the key. She smiled a satisfying smile, as she hauled one more 'crazy' off her streets. Tonight, Cerulean City would sleep that much sounder and their world would be a safer place.

_

* * *

Dearest Misty,_

_"Violate all the love that I'm missing  
Throw away all the pain that I'm living  
You will believe in me  
And I can never be ignored  
I will die for you  
I will kill for you  
I will steal for you  
I did time for you  
I will await for you  
I'd make room for you  
I'd sail ships for you  
To get close to you  
To be a part of you  
As I believe in you"_

_K .S .A_

* * *

"Ms. Waterflower?" a younger police officer questioned, pulling Daisy to the side, "may I speak with you a moment?"

"It's 'miss' and it's like 'Daisy'," she correct, letting him draw her away form her three sisters. She gave Lily and Violet a quick nod that indicated they were to watch Misty while she was away. "What did you want to like talk about?" she asked once they were in the kitchen where the other three would not hear them.

"Miss. Daisy," he said with a slight blush, "the fingerprint analysis has come back and we've found the culprit behind these sick episodes. Someone is bringing him in as we speak. As soon as he's charged, we'll make sure he never bothers your sister ever again."

"Who is it?" Daisy asked quickly. "Is it like someone we know?"

"I believe so," he replied solemnly. "Is the name 'Ash Ketchum' familiar to any of you?"

Daisy gaped in response, her eyes widening in shock and despair.

"I thought it might be," he replied with a slight grimace, taking her surprised response as recognition. "I just thought I should tell you – it might be easier for her to hear the news from you. She needs to come down to the station so we can press charges."

"No!" she exclaimed in a harsh whisper, shaking her head frantically. "I can't tell her that. She won't be able to stand. You must have like made a mistake."

"There is no mistake, Miss. Daisy," he confirmed. "I double checked it myself. Obviously the news will upset her a little, but it is for the best that she know."

"No, you like don't understand," Daisy insisted, trying to communicate the gravity of the situation to the best of her ability. "She's like in love with him – she has been for half her life. It would break her heart."

"Your sister's heart isn't what concerns us, Miss. Daisy," the young cop responded unfeelingly.

Daisy chocked back a sob, his cool response to Misty's heartfelt emotions seemingly too much for her. He frowned, choosing to rephrase his words as he gently placed his hands on the young Waterflower woman's shoulder.

"We are here to protect your sister," he added gently, "and she needs to know that this person isn't safe. We can't charge him without her input."

"There has to be another way," Daisy pleaded. "A way without Misty. I want to protect her too, and like believe me when I say that she mustn't know. If she knew . . . well . . . she might like as well be dead."

"I . . ." be began to argue, but trailed off as Daisy turned her water turquoise eye in his direction. He let out a soft sigh of defeat, knowing he'd been defeated by her stare. "There may be a way," he said thoughtfully. "We could get a protection order and she wouldn't need to know. They do it all the time with kids in domestic violence cases. We just have to prove that it's justified."

"Thank you," she offered softly, a tiny smile on her lips. "You don't know how much this means to me . . . to us."

_

* * *

Dear Myst,_

_"There are days outside your window  
I see my reflection as I slowly pass by  
And I long for the mirrored perspective  
When we'll be lovers  
Lovers at last  
You gotta spend some time, love  
You gotta spend some time with me  
And I know you will find love  
I will possess your heart"_

_K .S .A_

* * *

"Come on, Daisy, you know me," Ash protested from his bench, earning himself a harsh look from the judge who later choose to hold him contempt and threw him in a jail cell in order to prove a point.

"You know I would never hurt Misty," he insisted. "I've known her for almost a decade. She's my best friend."

"That just makes it like that much worse," Daisy replied, a sob on the breath of her lips. "That you could do this to her . . .

"You're one of the most important people in her life and you like probably mean more to her than anyone else," she continued sadly. "That the person she cares for most could do this to her. A person she trusts. The person she l . . ." Daisy trailed off rather than reveal her baby sister's secret.

"She trusted you, Ash," the eldest Waterflower cried out in a demanding tone, sternness present in her voice that was unexpected from someone who had been beyond cordial every time they had met, "and you betrayed that trust. Now you have to like face the consequences."

"Daisy, please," Ash begged desperately. "Please just let me see her. Let me explain. She'll understand."

"Mr. Ketchum," the judge growled tightly, "this is not some kind of _agony aunt_," he said with disdain. "You are in a court of law, and you will be expected to behave appropriately. If you wish to plead your case, you will do it according to due process and no other way."

"I don't even want to be here!" Ash complained loudly, having the impertinence to address a judge in such a manner.

"If someone would just let me talk to Misty we could sort this all out, ok?" he said with an insolent glare at the judge that did nothing to help his position. "I don't care what you think of me or what happened, or what anyone else thinks. The only person's opinion that even matters to me is Misty's, and she's not even here so why would I bother saying anything if she's not here to hear it?"

The corner of the judge's lips twitched with an uncomfortable tick. "One more comment like that, Mr. Ketchum, and I'll be apt to find you in contempt," the judge warned, his eyes narrowing in a gesture unfitting of his role.

Ash, having no idea what it mean to be 'found in contempt' retuned the glare and spoke heatedly, his demeanour of insolence being enough to stir even the most lenient of judges.

"Show – me – Misty."

_

* * *

Dear Myst,_

_"Any other girl I'd let you walk away  
Any other girl I'm sure I'd be ok  
So tell me what makes a man  
Want to give you all his heart  
Smile when you're around  
And cry when we're apart  
If you know what makes a man  
Want to love you the way I do  
Girl you gotta let me know"_

_K .S .A_

* * *

"Is this all?" Daisy asked after the judge had delivered judgement in their favour. "Will she really be safe from him?"

The young cop frowned, his heart going out to the four Waterflower women and this one in particular. The look on her face was tugging painfully on his heartstrings.

"I'm afraid not, Miss. Daisy," he replied reluctantly. "The judge wont' give the order effect unless she signs it."

"What? But why?" she asked hopelessly. She had thought that it was over now – that her sister would be free of this _person,_ but still there was more heartache to come. This was the very thing she had been trying so hard to prevent and now Ash was getting exactly what he wanted. It seemed to her the ultimate injustice.

Her tone only made the cop more reluctant to answer. "Enforcement mostly," he said with a sigh. "You said yourself how much she cared for him," he said, avoiding the 'l-word' for the time being. "The order is to keep him away from her, but how are you going to keep her from trying to see him unless she knows the reason why?"

Daisy sighed. She knew he was right, but she wished there was another way.

He cautiously continued. "And, I think maybe you should let him see her," he offered, glancing at Daisy for her reaction. "For her sake," he added with a companionable smile. "Maybe it will give her some closure."

She paused to consider the prospect for a moment before responding to his suggestion a stern look. "Like fine," she acquiesced, "but just know I'm holding you personally responsible for any harm that comes to my sister, Officer."

"Actually, it's 'Detective'," he corrected, a gently smile on his lips. "And it's 'David'."

_

* * *

Myst,_

_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
'Cos I know that you touch me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven  
That I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now  
And I don't want the world  
To see me  
'Cos I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am"_

_Your friend and admirer,_

_A. S. K _l _K .S .A_

* * *

"Right this way, Miss. Waterflower," one of the police officers directed as they led her towards the goal.

"Thank you, officers," she replied politely. "Daisy didn't say why you wanted me here. Just that I had to sign something."

Inside lockup, Ash perked at the sound of the familiar voice heading towards his cell. "Misty!" he cried happily as she entered the open space opposite his little corner of the police station. "I knew you'd come."

"Ash!" she cried with a surprised gasp. "Oh god. What are you doing in there? Is everything alright?" she asked worriedly, eyes locked on the confined form of her best friend.

Ash made to answer her questions, but as Misty moved towards him they were both cut off by one of the officers moving into her path.

"Miss. Waterflower," he said sternly, "we don't believe it is in your best interest to engage with this individual, but if you insist on doing so, we suggest you maintain a safe distance."

"But it . . ." she began to explain, hoping to convey that Ash was simply too stupid to commit a crime (mens rea being a crucial factor here). She stopped herself as she looked at their protective stances before turning her sorrowful gaze upon the prisoner. "Oh, Ash," she sighed, her tone almost gently. "What have you done?"

"I didn't do anything!" Ash insisted in a desperate tone, glaring at the two men who were trying to turn Misty against him. "They think I've been stalking you just because I know your favourite cereal and how you shop, and which draw you keep your gym outfits in. But of course I know it, Myst. You're my friend and I bet you'd know the same things about me."

With a shake of her head, she began to piece things together. Finding herself in a particularly forgiving mood, she was about to turn to the police officers and explain to them that Ash was not a crazed stalker – he was just a little on the dim side, as she had tried to point out earlier – when his next words changed her mind.

"I only went in your diary to make sure it hadn't changed," he added crucially in his 'defence'.

"You went in my **diary!**" she cried indignantly. "That's a complete invasion of privacy you little twerp!"

It seems he could sneak around her home; he could rifle through her clothing; he could even leave creepy notes in her bathroom while she showered; but going into a girl's diary (even the personal organizer variety) was crossing some sort of line that would not be tolerated.

"I only did it 'cos you told me to," he insisted in response, only to make things worse for himself.

"You're blaming _me_ for this?!" she ejaculated, stalking towards him once again.

"Well, yeah," he replied, matching her tone with equal indigence and a bit of smugness for good measure. "If you hadn't said I had to prove that I lo-liked you," he said, catching his stumble before he gave himself away, "none of this would have happened."

"None . . . I never . . ." she trailed off as she realized what was truly behind their current predicament. "Brock," she muttered lowly, her glare narrowing at some inanimate object.

"Ash, you-"

"Miss. Waterflower," the officers behind her interrupted once again, trying to prevent her from getting to close to her attacker. "I don't think you understand the situation. He-"

"No, I understand _exactly_ what's going on," Misty replied tightly, her gaze not leaving Ash. "Officers, I believe you wanted me to sign something. I'm assuming it's some sort of warrant for this man's arrest?"

"Uh, yes, though not an arrest warrant," one of the officers replied, not understanding any of what was occurring. "It's a, uh, restraining order."

"Even better," Misty relied with a triumphant smirk sent in Ash's direction. "Just the thing to get this bum out of my life," she added, finishing Ash with a challenging look before turning on her heal to show him she was serious.

It took but a moment for the shock to register on Ash's face. She couldn't mean it, could she? She couldn't really want this thing to take effect, separating them pretty much for good?

Well regardless, he had to stop her.

"Misty, you can't sign it," he exclaimed, just to be on the safe side.

"Watch me," she replied snarkily, allowing the two police officers and a man who was apparently her attorney, to direct her attention to the extensive order that had been handed down.

"But we'll never get to see each other," he replied hopelessly, his shoulders slumping at the thought.

"I know," Misty replied smugly. "Isn't it grand?"

"But, Misty, I love you!" he cried, trying for the one thing he had left in his inventory. "I've always loved you – right from the start – even though it took me a while to figure it out. I just do."

"You love me?" she asked, disbelief evident in her eyes; and yet there was something in her voice that gave him hope.

"Of course I do, Misty, that's what I've been trying to show you this whole time!" he exclaimed. "I didn't mean to scare you or do any of those things. I just wanted you to know how I felt about and for you to feel the same," he finished weakly, looking guiltily at the ground.

"Well that certainly changes things," she said thoughtfully, her index finger held to her chin.

"I'm going to need a more extensive restraining order," she finished, causing Ash to nearly faint in disbelief. "This won't do at all," she said as she shredded the paper in half.

She then turned to give the other men occupying the room the patented 'Waterflower puppy dog look' (perhaps the same look that got Ash thrown into jail in the first place). "Boys, could you leave us a minute?" she asked sweetly, giving them a pleading smile. They nodded and went on their way, leaving Ash and Misty alone together, nominally separated by the metal bars.

She sighed aloud as she moved closer to him, soft eyes examining him through the cage. "What am I going to do with you, Ash Ketchum?" she asked, shaking her head at the boy she adored.

"Marry me?" he offered helplessly with a shrug and a lopsided grin for good measure.

Her eye narrowed at his suggestion. "You so better not be messing with me, Ketchum," she warned him in a dangerous tone. "And you better not be saying that just to get out of the legal ramifications of your actions."

"I mean it, Myst," he assured her, his whole countenance one of the utmost sincerity. "Marry me," he said again, this time not as a question, but rather, as a command. "Please," he added hopefully, grinning at her childishly.

"Fine," she acquiesced, "but only because you asked so nicely."

"Does that mean you're going to get me out now?" he asked, grinning at his friend-cum-future wife. He was so pleased with her response that he actually didn't mind the whole jail situation that much. In fact, the only reason he wanted out of his prison cell was because he figured that it was only right that their agreement be sealed with a kiss, and he wasn't really sure of the logistics of doing so through prison bars.

Misty, however, looked unimpressed, her lips quirking into an almost sadistic smile.

"No," she replied simply. "You get to stay in there until you get me a ring. That's what you get for asking _Brock Slate_ for advice on your love life."

"But, Misty," he whined, "how am I supposed to get you a ring if I'm locked in jail?" he pleaded as she walked away.

She turned back one last time to look over her shoulder at the love of her life, leaving him with a few short words.

"You're a smart boy, Ash. You figure it out."

~FIN~

According to my computers dictionary I'm not aloud to use the word 'ejaculate' for 'cried out' or 'exclaimed' because it's dated (on a related note, since when was 'emit' a synonym for the _other_ meaning of ejaculate?). Well screw you dashboard, I'm gonna use ejaculate however the hell I like. In fact, I might just have some characters 'breathlessly ejaculate' about some 'tremendous erections' just to show you whose in charge of this language. (In fact, as I was doing a secondary edit of this I came up with the perfect phrase: "Oh god!" he breathlessly ejaculated as he gazed upon Wellington's renewed erection. "It is indeed tremendous!" 26/2/10)

Hope you all liked that one. I can't believe that I just wrote an 8,000 word drabble. Can you even call it a drabble once it reaches that length? This was harder to write than the others, what with it actually having some semblance of a plot but I think I'm happy with the conclusion.

Review and let me know what you thought. I think for the next one I would love to do a sort of 'letter to the author' from the minor characters complaining about my shipping for the sake of completion, but it's a hard one to do without being too self-referential so it'll be a while in the works. Although inspiration may strike again so you never know what will come out.


	4. Attraction

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

Came to me in the middle of the night just as I was about to fall asleep. Like the first one, it was the dialogue that got me started and the story was slotted around it. Hope you all like.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon. Nor do I own Albert Einstein

* * *

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: Attraction

Fan fiction vs. Real life #4:

In fan fiction, opposites attract.

In real life, physics has absolutely no bearing upon the propensity of some people (and not others) to fall in love with one another.

Or as Albert Einstein once aptly put it . . .

_"Gravity is not responsible for people falling in love."_

* * *

Ash really didn't understand what he was doing there. He had spent the last two hours sitting through eight fifteen minute interval dates and there was only more to come. He didn't know how Brock could consider this anything but slow and painful torture.

Ash glanced painfully at his speed dating junky best friend, trying to convey a message with his eyes of just how desperately he wanted to leave that dreadful place. His efforts were futile as Brock was already absorbed in his next date – a leggy blonde with a bust size that defied the laws of physics. She was just Brock's type.

"Er hem."

A discrete cough was made drawing his attention away from the cassonaova extraordinaire to his own date prospect. She was pretty – red hair, green eyes, and a nice friendly smile. He wouldn't call her gorgeous – at least not in the same way that Brock's date was – but she was definitely pretty. He let his eyes gaze lazily over her face and figure, speed dating requiring none of the pretence of actual dating, which tended to disapprove of such blatant 'eyeing up' of the opposite sex.

The redhead gave him a sceptical scoff, crossing her well-toned arms over her chest. "I hope you weren't just using my precious date time to check out other girls," she pronounced drolly, tossing her flaming hair over her shoulder.

Ash shook his head. "Just taking the time to amuse myself," he responded, gesturing to Brock who was now on his knees practically proposing marriage to a girl he had known for all of three minutes. Ash seriously hoped she declined – he was hoping that their speed date fifteen minutes from now would be the only interaction he had with a woman of her 'calibre'.

"I'm Misty," she smiled, offering her hand across the one-meter square table.

Ash frowned and then in a rare moment of suave, brought the hand she offered to his lips, giving her a friendly wink. "Ash," he responded, hoping that the whole thing came off as smooth as he thought it did.

She giggled, a light blush hitting her cheeks. "I hope all the girls don't get this treatment," she teased, another perfectly pitched giggle escaping her lips. Ash just shrugged, letting the perfect opportunity for total suaveness slip through his fingers.

She rolled her eyes, not really expecting more. "Ash and Misty," she mused. "I guess we're perfect for each other."

"Why do you say that?" he asked, curious about her conclusion.

"Well, you know the saying," she shrugged. "Opposites attract."

"So you're saying we're opposites?" he asked, his tone suggesting that he didn't really agree.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I mean, just look at us. I'm a girl and you're a boy. You don't get more opposite than that."

"I don't think that's what they meant."

"How about our names then?" Misty suggested. "You're fire, I'm water."

"Actually I think I'm named after the tree," Ash corrected. "Apparently it's like 'the thing' in Pallet to name your kids after trees."

"What about Gary?"

"Gary_ Oak_," Ash replied, particular emphasis placed on the last name.

"Never mind."

"Trees and water aren't opposite at all," he said, returning to the previous point in the conversation. "Water gives life to trees. Without water, we wouldn't have trees or at least they'd be really shrivelled and not as good as they could have been if they had water there to support them."

She missed his point entirely. "Ok, what about Pallet and Cerulean. They're opposites."

"How?" Ash asked.

"They're on opposite sides of the peninsula," she offered.

"I guess," he shrugged, "but I still think you're pushing it, Myst."

"Fine," she said, seemingly conceding that one. "What about Pokémon then?"

"What about Pokémon?"

"Well my starter is dual type while yours is single," she offered.

"Misty, Staryu is by no stretch of the imagination a starter," he argued back. "You even got him before you were ten. You don't have a starter."

"But he was my first Pokémon, so I still say Staryu and Pikachu are opposites," she argued. "Electric and water are opposites."

"I thought you said fire and water were opposites," he laughed, watching her trying to backpedal.

"In general, but not in Pokémon," she pouted.

"I don't think Pokémon have opposites."

She almost growled in response, glaring fiercely in a way that made her look stunningly beautiful. "Careers then," she tried. "You're a trainer, I'm a gym leader."

"But you still battle, Myst," he told her. "The opposite of a trainer is a co-ordinator."

He saw her visibly flinch at that one. "What's all this about, Myst?" he asked gently, taking her hand across the table and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Nothing, nothing," she waved off with false cheer. "Can you believe it? The first night out we get in ages and it's speed dating with Brock," she said, trying to change the subject before he delved any deeper.

"Misty," he said lowly, warning her he wouldn't be swayed.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping forward as she lowered her eyes to their hands. "I was just reading one of those stupid gossip magazines today and they all seem to think you'd be much better suited to someone like May or Dawn."

"Why?" he asked.

"Well because you're so different from them," she almost whined in response. "It makes it more fun and exciting. I'm just more of the same."

"So," he shrugged. "I wouldn't say we're exactly the same, Myst, and it's the things which are 'the same' that make us work."

"Like what?" she scoffed.

"Like the I lost my dad," he suggested. "May could never understand that, and I love that you do, Myst. I mean, I hate that something like that happened to you, cause I don't like the thought of something upsetting you, but it means a lot to me that you understand."

He saw her features soften slightly and decided to continue in the hopes of future rewards. "And as a gym leader, you get how important training and stuff is and how you need to be close to your Pokémon in a way that is different from co-ordinating," he told her. "And cause you're from Kanto, I know you're never gonna make some big cultural faux paux in front of all the big wigs. Do you remember how bad it was when Dawn tried to eat the Obon offering?"

"Yeah, but anyone could make that mistake," Misty offered. "In fact, I think _you_ did."

"I was four," he protested. "People expect it of kids that age."

She shook her head, letting a few chuckles stray from her lips. "How about we blow this popsicle stand and get something to eat?" she suggested with a smile. "Leave speed dating to the single people."

"You read my mind, Myst," he smiled, jumping out of his chair and racing towards the door before Misty had even got up from her seat.

He smiled as she caught up to him, helping her into a light jacket.

"You know, even if they're right, Myst," he said, alluding back to the gossip magazines that had begun the strange interaction. "I think I'd rather be with you."

She smiled softly, happiness in her eyes as she took in his words. "I guess opposites really do attract," she sighed contentedly, curling her body towards his as she uttered her conclusion.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, almost certain she was going somewhere good with it this time.

"Well, you're a boy. I'm a girl."

"I think you might be right, Misty," he told her, gently kissing the top of her head. "I think that's all it takes.

* * *

_"__No, this trick won't work...How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as love?"  
~ Albert Einstein_

~FIN~

For some reason I pictured this with a married Ash and Misty out for a date night while Grandma Delia watches the baby. Not really sure where this fic came from - I think it might be a die for your ship attempt to torpedo any Ash with co-ordinator ships hanging around.

Right.

And for anyone wondering, an obon offering is a offering for the dead so it would be pretty bad to eat it. It's a buddhist thing, but a lot of cultures have a similar sort of offering - most of them around Halloween - but that was the first named one that came up in my google search and it seemed the most appropriate to go with the Japanese reference.

And . . . for anyone who thinks Misty should have known that Ash was named after a tree, maybe she assumed it was Ash like that stuff that's left over after fire because of Pokemon 2000. Or maybe she was just desperately grasping at straws. That one seems more likely.


	5. Proximity

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

Surprisingly, another drabble came to mind within days of the first. This sort of derives from one of the previews in Ash: The Last Stand xBeginningsx so it would probably be beneficial to think of that as the background to this.

Now this is largely Pokeshippy by proxy, so try not to be too disappointed by that. You'll quickly understand what I mean by that term by the time you finish the first paragraph, but I still think it's quite sweet and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing this one. I'm like so guilty of this particular distinction it's not funny, I mean, my whole affinity with Mangashipping arose not out of **The Electric Tale of Pikachu** (as it properly should), but because I wrote Sabrina as one of Misty's best friends for the purpose of pairing Brock off with somebody - anybody would have done so it could have just as likely been Suzy as anyone else. It must be something we're all naturally predisposed to do because I even seem to do it real life (although not really successfully what with me being unable to orchestrate events to the same degree).

Finally, before we actually get started, you should definitely listen to the **Don't Stand So Close to Me/Young Girl **mash up from Glee as you read this. I had the song in my head for at least the first half of the story, and there are points where this is more than apparent. I was so close to making it a song fic, but thought it ruined the flow of the story.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon.

* * *

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: Attraction

Fan fiction vs. Real life #5

In fan fiction, if two people get together, then everyone close to them will pair off accordingly. Her cousin will like his cousin. His best friend will like her best friend, and so forth. Only the parents will be spared, and sometimes not even them.

In real life . . . well okay, sometimes this _does_ happen. But you've got to admit it's pretty rare.

* * *

Pikachu was basking in the sun when the pretty blue marill waddled up to him, her steps almost purposeful. It was strange in a way, because he'd never really thought there was anything particularly striking about marill's before, and yet whenever this one passed his vision, he felt his innate tendencies rush up to the forefront of his mind. He was practically a man in pikachu terms – fully matured – and here was this barely evolved marill making him feel like a teenager - making him feel things hadn't felt at all in his teens – and it was completely exhilarating.

She asked him a question, each syllable sounding like music to his super-sensitive ears. It was something they had in common, along with an egg group, but he tried not to dwell on that last fact too much.

"Pi _ka_chu," he replied, hoping to come off suave. "Chaa," he added, his already red cheeks enflaming with the hue of a blush.

She responded shyly, hiding behind her bulbous tail before suddenly using it to bop him on the head. According to Brock, the spiky-haired human, this was what the humans called flirting. Or at least, this was what he said every time that Misty, his master's mate for the last six years (which was apparently a very long time for humans who were often not content to mate for life as his master seemed likely to do), had whacked said master over the head with that trusty mallet of hers. He wasn't sure if the same could be applied to Pokémon who's mating rituals tended to be far less complex than the six-year dance that their masters had been enacting.

He started when he realized that the marill female had come close once again, that tail of hers really the only thing between them now. A part of him cursed its existence, and yet how could he when it was such a cute little tail – a perfectly round ball on the end of the squiggly appendage – and she looked so adorable peeking at him from behind it giving him coy looks that made his heart race with the same exhilaration he felt just before a battle.

He thought she was cute even as an azurill, which had surprised him at the time. He'd rarely thought about the opposite sex until then, even if he was nearly eight in human years. He'd never spent much time appraising the fairer sex – in fact, much like his master he barely acknowledge that there were these things called females that were somehow different from himself – yet he'd caught himself paying close attention to the shape of her ears and tail, and thinking she'd probably make a very pretty marill or even azumarill in the future.

But she was just a baby then. A sweet little azurill with a bit of a crush on him – just because he had Ash as a trainer didn't mean he was completely oblivious. Now she was . . . well she wasn't quite a woman, but the scent coming off of her told him she certainly wasn't a baby.

_'Must resist,'_ he thought painfully to himself as a slight shift had that tail of hers brushing against his fur. A second later the wind changed and he found himself completely engulfed in her scent.

"Chuuu," he groaned aloud, ashamed of the thoughts that she brought to mind. He shouldn't be feeling this way, especially not about her. So much could go wrong if he let himself act on these emotions, these _instincts_. Her mother, Tracey's marill, was his friend, and here he was thinking of doing unspeakable things to the daughter of one of his closest friends. Misty would certainly be angry, of that he was almost certain, and he feared the repercussions this might have upon their masters' relationship.

She asked if he was okay, concern marring her sweet, mouse-like features as she noted his pained expression. He told her it was nothing, but her caring nature would not let her stop at that. Instead she did the last thing he wanted her to do in that moment. She came closer, curling her tail around him in order to perform refresh.

He didn't need a refresh. What he needed right now was for her to not stand so close to him. He needed her to leave before his resistance failed him.

Dammit, where the hell was Ash when he needed him?

"Mar?" she asked, stepping back and giving him an imploring look. _Better?_

He nodded despite himself, the childlike look she gave him making him wonder if she even realized what she was doing to him. He replied with a 'thanks' that made her light up with a bright smile that sent his body into overdrive once again.

"Marill," she told him shyly, glancing away from his inquiring stare. _I'm glad._

Well that did it for him. Just two syllables and all of his resistance crumbled away. He pounced and she responded, and in very little time all the tension and anticipation that had been built up in his body was released in the most basic of ways. Instinct guided him and for a moment he even forgot what type she was, releasing a mild shock that probably would have been pleasing to a member of his own species. Not that he would have preferred them to the water type that yelped in surprise at the sudden attack, only to respond with an ice attack that ignited a wonderful chill in his body.

But gods he wished he hadn't let that one attack go. Their masters had heard her cry, racing out of the cool, air-conditioned premises in order to protect their own. The two Pokémon were too caught in their actions to cease or to even care for their sudden audience.

"Oh my god! Pikachu's attacking Zuri!" Dawn, his master's young travelling companion, cried in distress.

The other three just gaped, too shocked to know what to say or do in these circumstances.

"Ash, you've got to stop him. He's hurting her!" Dawn demanded, hearing the Pokémon cry out in what she assumed was pain.

"Dawn, he's not –" Misty began to correct before Brock cut her off with a stern look.

"Dawn, I think you should get Nurse Joy," Brock suggested.

"Of course," Dawn agreed, thinking she understood the situation. "You should be ashamed of your Pokémon, Ash."

Misty refrained from commenting until Dawn was out of hearing range, a smirk on her lips. "Don't you think that would be a touch hypocritical?" she suggested to her boyfriend, hardly able to contain her laughter.

"At least their done now," he sighed with relief as he gestured to the two Pokémon curled up next to one another, Pikachu's tail wrapped protectively around the round female.

"What happened?" Nurse Joy called frantically as she rushed out of the Pokémon Centre with chancey in tow. "Dawn said there was a Pokémon being attacked."

"Oh no," Brock insisted, swooping in dramatically in his usual love-struck mode. "The only attack here is how I am assaulted by my love for you."

"Brock," Misty said warningly. "Take Dawn."

The breeder immediately became serious, the need for moma-Brock's intervention overriding his hormones for the time being. He led Dawn away so that Ash and Misty could speak privately with the Pokémon nurse.

"Where's the attack?" she asked again, seeing no sigh of violence on the scene.

"It was really more of a tryst," Misty explained meaningfully.

"Oh," the nurse replied disappointedly before realization sunk in. "Ohhh.

"How old is the female?" she asked, unable to tell which was which from a distance.

"A little over three years," Misty replied. "Pikachu's about seven."

Nurse Joy nodded, putting the information into a small hand held computer she carried with her. "She's very young," she frowned, disapproving somewhat of the age gap, "but that still puts her well enough into her breeding years. You should expect an egg in eight to ten days," the nurse told them before heading on her way.

Misty's eyes glistened with excitement at the pronouncement, turning gleefully to Ash. "We're having a baby, Ash!" she cheered, ignoring her boyfriend's slight paling. "I bet it'll be such a cute little azurill!'

"Or a pichu," he added.

"It doesn't work that way, Ash," she corrected.

"Oh," he responded disappointedly. He had always wanted a pichu for some reason.

"I can't wait to see my azurill," Misty continued contentedly. "I'll call it 'Storm' seeing as it has water and electric type parents."

Ash nodded, seeming to accept that as a reasonable name until something occurred to him. "What do you mean _your_ azurill?"

"Well it is _my_ marill."

"And _my_ pikachu," he argued. "It takes two to tango, Misty. You should know that well enough by now."

She flushed at the insinuation but pushed forward in the dispute. "You can't take a baby away from its mother. It should stay with Zuri for a proper upbringing," she argued back, eyes narrowed as she took on a fighting stance.

Ash adjusted his stance to meet hers. "That's bull and you know it, Myst," he shot back. "You've already got a marill, so you'll end up with two Pokémon the same. I haven't, so I should get it so I can have a _new_ Pokémon I don't already have."

"What are you going to do with an azurill?" Misty replied indignantly. "You've got Buizel so you don't need Storm. A baby needs constant attention, you know. How exactly do you intend to provide that?"

"Pikachu will care for it and teach it fighting and stuff," Ash answered confidently. "He's its father, after all."

Misty scoffed, her lips curling into a scowl. "Oh so that arguments fine when you're the one using it," she muttered, huffily crossing her arms over her chest.

"Marill and azumarill are water Pokémon," she said, pointing out the obvious.

"So?"

"So I'm a water trainer, so I should get it," she argued loudly. "I'm the only one who can provide the right learning environment for Storm's training."

"Are not!" he argued passionately.

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

Pikachu rolled his eyes, having no idea why their masters were fighting. He and Zuri had already agreed; Storm would stay with Misty and Zuri until he – or she as Zuri was quick to add – evolved, at which point he – or she – would travel with himself and Ash for battle experience. After that Storm would either be released or passed on to a good trainer who could help him – or her - reach his potential.

Regardless, he understood that this was part of Ash and Misty's exceptionally complex mating ritual and that there was no point telling them that things had already been settled. They would eventually come to the same conclusion themselves once they'd worked out their passions in the usual manner. But until then . . .

"ARE NOT!"

"ARE TOO!"

"ARE NOT!"

"ARE TOO!"

"ARE NOT!"

"I _hate_ you, Ash Ketchum!"

"Love you too, Myst!"

"Damit, Ketch-"

Pikachu sighed, turning his eyes to give the two some privacy. It always seemed to end that way.

He turned his attention back to his own mate, smiling as she purred softly in her sleep, nuzzling his warm body. He'd never really though much of marills before, and yet this one enticed him completely. Every part of her was perfect – her ears, her nose, her tail – and he wondered how he could ever consider a life that didn't involve her in some way.

It was strange really, because things could have been so different. If she'd had another trainer, they might never have met. He probably wouldn't have even noticed her.

To think, none of this would have happened if Misty hadn't gotten a Pokémon in his egg group.

~FIN~

Lovely allusion there to Professor Oak's theory about how Pokemon reflect their trainers feelings (which is why Misty is Pikachu's favourite of Ash's companions).

Proximity shipping is totally canon when it comes to people's Pokemon. I mean, there's loads of examples of it in the series, especially the Orange Islands episode with the nidorans. People even use it as proof of a particular ship that shall not be mentioned because said ship is the epitome of all evil in this author's eyes. Which is largely the reason why I think that by proxy hints should only count for the person's main Pokemon, in other words, Pikachu. TogepeixPikachu is like Woody Allen creepy, where as Marill(once it evolves)xPikachu is only Jane Austin's Emma creepy (there's a line where Mr. Knightley confesses to Emma that he's loved her since she was 12 years old which might be romantic if he hadn't been nearly thirty at the time). I pretty much consider this Azurill's (or Zuri) only function in Pokemon - to provide a suitable mate for Pikachu (once it involves).

Technically, most PokemonxPokemon pairings should probably be considered shippy by proxy, but most of the ones I can think of aren't really pure. Like BunearyxPikachu, which would only really be pearlshippy by proxy if it was Piplup, which it wouldn't be cos what kind of Pokemon would want that butt monkey/scrappy doo? Similarly BeautiflyxMasquerain is impure because Drew's main Pokemon is Roserade. Vineshipping clearly doesn't count - you can't by proxy a Pokemon they don't even have on them. SparkyxPikachu would definitely qualify as leagueshipping by proxy and I think Happiny might give Brock a by proxy in with Nurse Joy 'cept that I've suddenly come to the conclusion that all Joys and Jennys are really robots which actually explains a lot of things about them (mostly the cousin stuff - it's all about the batches) so he'd still be out of luck. I'm seriously wondering if there are any pure examples that actually exist and if maybe I should stop being so fussy simply for the sake of excluding vineshipping.

I guess with all that said and done . . . review, especially if you can actually think of a pure example of by proxy shipping.


	6. Wonderful Tonight

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

I actually wrote two Sinnoh competition based drabbles, but this is the one I preferred so this is the one that gets posted. I think it's because I quite like the distinction on this one, as there really isn't any distinction at all. The stuff about objective and subjective beauty sort of comes from this study which showed that generic/average faces were deemed more attractive than those with outstanding or extreme features. The title and last line are taken from the song of the same title by Eric Clapton.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon.

* * *

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: Wonderful Tonight

**Fan fiction vs. Real life #6**

In fan fiction, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

In real life, beauty is measured both objectively and subjectively, but yes, subjectively speaking, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

* * *

Misty was beautiful - not generally, but particular to this moment. Generally, she was cute, pretty and - on a particularly bad day - not ugly. Her features were the sort of features that _could _be beautiful if she put in the effort to hide their extremeness. Her hair was just a little too red, a little too sharp. Her eyes were just a little too unusual and her nose a little too pointed. Her bottom lip was a touch too full - although nobody would notice as long as she was smiling - and her skin a little too pale. Her figure differed a little too far into the realm of lean and tall than was acceptable for femininity and her clothing usually exacerbated the fact rather than concealing it.

Despite this, Misty was generally satisfied with her appearance. She could live with pretty, heck, she could live with not ugly, but today's especial circumstances had led to her re-evaluating that appraisal. Today she didn't want to just be pretty, she wanted to be beautiful. He deserved beautiful.

And she was, in the objective sense of the word, beautiful. Her orange hair, which fell now to mid back, had been gently curled in such a way that softened both its extreme colour and the angular features of her face. She'd put on layers of make up to fix the imperfections: a light bronze to darken her skin; a rose matte lipstick that didn't emphasize her lips and some pencilling to try and even out the cupids bow of her upper lip; olive coloured eye shadow and gold eye-liner to bring out the green in her eyes and de-emphasize the blue. She was dressed in a cute violet dress with a scooped neckline and a skirt that puffed out at the waist and ended just below mid-thigh. The dress made her shoulders look less broad, emphasized her otherwise feminine figure (particularly her tiny waist) and allowed her to show off her most feminine assets - her long, pale legs wrapped in a pair of silver strappy stilettos with silky ties.

Today she was conventional beauty. To the extent that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Misty had always been beautiful - at least to the one person that mattered - but today she was beautiful to anyone who cared to look. She was stunning, gorgeous, sensational even . . .

. . . and she was an idiot.

She didn't know what she was thinking when she did this. Why on earth did she go to all this effort for a boy who probably hadn't yet realized that boys and girls were distinctly different members of the same species? Why had she gone to all this effort to look beautiful for this one day and then gone and hid herself in the back of the stands while the boy she loved fought the most important battle of his life? Why had she gone and dressed herself up like a human barbie doll, and then been too chicken to even tell him she was there?

She was a fool of the worst degree. A fool in love. A fool so foolish that she couldn't even work up the courage to let her best friend know she was there to see him win on one of the most important days of his life.

Not that she could be blamed entirely: even a boy as dense as he would probably realize that when a girl flies across regions to see you looking like she just stepped out of _Seventeen _cover, your relationship isn't exactly platonic. Even he couldn't be so stupid as to miss the obvious implications of her visit. Perhaps if she'd arrived as her usual, subjectively beautiful self, she could have passed the whole thing off for friendship, but objective beauty sent a very different, non-friendshippy signal.

She sighed aloud, wringing her fingers in her lap. The people beside her gave her odd looks, probably wondering about her attire. She definitely wasn't dressed for watching a Pokemon battle - her clothing was better suited for the theatre or a fancy dinner and she looked rather out of place next to the casually dressed spectators. She felt suddenly self-conscious in a way that she wasn't entirely used to. She hadn't realized how awkward being beautiful could be, and was slowly regretting it more and more as the match progressed.

The match, of course, was between her best friend and his greatest rival yet. The boy, Paul, battled well, but his desire for victory seemed to come before everything else, including his Pokémon. He didn't deserve to win, not the way that Ash did. Ash's heart was so good, he deserved this win more than anyone else she had ever known or would ever know. He _had_ to win. He had to.

But he wasn't, winning that is. Each down to one Pokémon, Ash was flailing. He was looking lost, and Misty's heart ached beyond anything else she had ever felt. And suddenly it didn't matter whether she was feeling self-conscious about her beauty or what Ash might read from it. All that mattered was that Ash needed someone - needed her - and she couldn't let her feelings stand in the way of that.

The shoes went first because she knew she could hardly walk in them, let alone run down a hundred flights of stairs in them. The perfect curls went next, flying free of their carefully placed pins and frizzing out as the wind wooshed through them. Most of the make up went when she slammed into a man carrying an extra-large cola that flew up in her face as they collided. It also finished off her hair, but Misty had no care for that, or for the man's cries that she refund his purchase. Her dress went last, the final visage of her beauty lost as she ran into the hotdog vender, covering herself in ketchup, mustard, and relish. Not that she cared. Not that she cared for anything but Ash.

She finally reached the barrier, ignoring the stares of the crowd that suddenly turned to stare at this mad woman yelling over the field.

"Ash Ketchum!" she cried loudly. "Stop being an idiot! Your Pokémon love you and only you can bring out the very best in them! You need to push them to be the best, Ash! It's okay! Pushing them doesn't make you like him!"

Ash turned his head in surprise, glancing up at the wild haired redhead in surprise. "M-Misty?" he asked, the look on his face a mixture of awe, surprise and longing.

"Stop looking at me, you moron!" she yelled at him, deflating what could have easily been a very romantic moment. "Look at the battle! It's time to finish it!"

He smiled, nodding his head in determination as he turned back to the battle. "Quilava, return," he called, summoning the fire type from the field and replacing it with a Pokémon he had recalled earlier. Paul scoffed but Ash refused to let it intimidate him this time. "Go Gliscor!"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Pathetic," he muttered before calling his Pokémon to attack.

"Gliscor, hold your ground," Ash called, waiting for the right moment to attack when Paul's Pokémon would be most vulnerable. "Gliscor **stone edge**."

The Pokémon stared at its foe determinedly, eyes glowing white as two blue rings surrounded the insect like body. The rings glowed brightly until they formed massive chunks of stone, and once formed these flew speedily at the other Pokémon, dealing heavy critical attacks on an already battle weakened Pokémon.

"Okay, Gliscor, last move," Ash called as the other Pokémon returned to its feet and Paul called for a hyperbeam. As the Pokémon charged its attack, Ash retaliated. "**Giga impact**."

Gliscor obeyed, flying at his opponent and hitting full impact before the other creature could even release its own attack. It hit the floor heavily, bouncing twice before sliding to a stop near Paul's podium.

"Get up," he snarled cruelly. "Get up you useless thing."

It tried, its legs shaky as it tried to lift its body from the ground, but it was no good. The battle was over as the thing slumped to the ground in defeat and the referee declared Ash the winner.

As the words 'Ash Ketchum, winner,' started to make their way blearily through his consciousness, there was only one thing he could do. He ran to the edge of the arena, opening his arms wide to the girl standing above him, her smile beaming with pride.

"What do you expect me to do?" she asked him, a sneer in her voice even as she continued to smile at him so warmly. "Jump?"

Ash nodded enthusiastically. "I'll catch you," he promised.

She sighed, doing an easy flip over the bar and landing beside him with practiced ease.

"You were supposed to let me catch you," he frowned, a childish pout on his lips.

"I'd get you all messy," she complained. "Just look at me," she said, gesturing derisively to the current state of her attire. "I look awful."

"You look beautiful," he countered, taking her hand in his as they stood merely an arms distance apart.

"To you maybe," she muttered sarcastically. "I probably look like the contents of your stomach."

"To me always, Myst," he replied. "Sure your hair is sticky and you've lost your shoes and you've got that weird gunk all over your face and your dress is messed up," he began.

"Not helping," she cut in, her face flushing with embarrassment as he noted these imperfections.

He continued as though she had said nothing; letting his free hand travel to her sticky, fly away, too-red hair. "You're beautiful, Myst," he told her again before leaning in and kissing away the last traces of her rose matte lipstick.

"I love you," he told her as he pulled away - reluctantly - from her too full bottom lip and stared into her unusual blue-green eyes. "And I know that you don't fly across regions, in a dress of all things, to see some boy on a whim, so I'm hoping that means you love me too."

She stared at him silently, blinking as the words slowly sunk in.

"And if it doesn't, then I probably just made a really big idiot of myself because if you don't like me you must like Brock. And I just kissed you and I'm pretty sure that makes me a really bad friend," he said, rambling anxiously to fill the silence. "Please don't like Brock."

"I don't," she replied quietly. "I love you. I - when did you get so much smarter, mister?" she asked, shocked by his deduction almost despite her previous conclusions.

"Three years is a long time," he shrugged. "Without your _constant_ complaining, I had a lot of time to think."

"I was not always complaining," she admonished, whacking his shoulder. "You were the one always whining about how long it took to get places and boasting about badges that had practically been given away."

"I earned my badges fair and square," Ash argued back, puffing up his chest in pride.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too. And you should be nice to me, Misty," he argued smugly. "You love me."

"You should be nicer to me," she countered. "You love me AND you wouldn't have won your match without me."

"I guess," he shrugged. "Aren't you gonna congratulate me, Myst? Im practically champion, you know."

"Practically champion," she scoffed. "Is that so, Mister Pokemon Master?"

He nodded at her tease, holding his head high in mock imitation of the sort of unquestionable pride he showed when they were young.

"Well," she said before suddenly pulling him into an unexpected kiss, pressing her body against his and letting him share in the mess she'd made of herself. She pulled back after a moment, once she was sure that Ash was thoroughly stunned, voicing her congratulations and best wishes verbally.

_"My darling, you were wonderful tonight."_

~FIN~

For those who like visualization, I found a dress kinda like what I had in mind at www. experienceproject. com /stories /Love-Fashion /608552. Third dress down, although not quite the colour I was thinking.

Was kinda thinking of the Orange Islands match against Rudy when I wrote this, as you can probably tell. Remember when Squirtle learnt hydropump thanks entirely to Misty's encouragement? Well now Gliscor has learnt stone edge the same way.

Hope you liked.


	7. Back to the Future

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

Outside of science fictions genres (and even within sadly) people rarely consider the complexities of time travel. Just think of the complexities highlighted by Shedon in 'The Nerdvana Annihilation' episode of **Big Bang Theory**. If one were to go into the past in order to prevent a certain event form occurring, then in preventing the event, you would not have the motivation to go back into the past in order to do the action which prevented the event, therefore your action in the past would not occur and the event would, so you would go back into the past to prevent the event and in so preventing it, not need to prevent it, thus you . . . you get the point, right? It's some sort of crazy circular paradox that no one ever seems to properly consider when time traveling.

Now when I think time travel, there is only one man that comes to mind and honestly I couldn't help myself. Plus, **Doctor Who** has always been very good at considering paradoxes so you've got to love them (all the more) for that.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon. Or (sadly) the tenth Doctor.

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: Back to the Future

**

* * *

Fan fiction vs. Real life #7**

In fan fiction, time travel happens without consequence.

In real life and the sci-fi genre, time travel is really hard.

* * *

She stepped out onto the plush landscape with a sense of deep awe, her eyes gazing over every feature and drinking it in with pleasure. The wind swept lightly through her red hair, and her blue eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Is this really Kanto?" she asked in awe and disbelief, the words resting on her expelled breath.

"Yep," a man in a long brown overcoat - one he had been given by Janis Joplin – replied, popping the 'p'. "Kanto Region, 2031. Weellll . . . I say 2031 but really it should be about 19 years.

"Human race are just starting out on this planet," he said, taking on that admiring 'isn't your species so cute?' tone in his voice, "what with all that awful business with the Mayan's resetting the planet in 2012, it just seemed simpler to move on and wait for the earth to catch up. Very impatient lot, that race of yours."

"Wow," she awed, barely listening to him as he spoke. "I can't believe I'm about to see a real live Pokemon."

"I'm sure you've seen, like pictures and holograms," the doctor argued. "Your parents must have loads of them."

"It's not the same as seeing one in real life," she complained giving him a stern look inherited along her maternal line.

"And now you get to see some of the first ones," he beamed. "I'm pretty brilliant, aren't I?" he fished for the compliment. "You know you want to say it."

"I will once you live up to your promise and show me some Pokemon," she replied. "I want to see a pikachu."

"All right," he replied, digging into his much bigger on the inside pockets and dragging out a red device with a blinking button. It made random noises as it searched over the area for something of interest to his companion, speaking aloud when it reached a sparrow like creature.

**"Pidgeotto, an evolved from of pidgey. It is armed with sharp claws and dives . . ."**

He frowned. Now that wasn't quite right. The secondary evolutions didn't develop until much later into this planets history.

"Hey, look there's some people," his companion noted. "Maybe they know where we can find a pikachu," she suggested, having little to no faith in his ability to find her Pokémon as promised.

He looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized the three figures in the distance and the Pokémon seated on the shoulder of one of them. "Cecily," he cautioned, "I think it's best you . . ."

"Why, Doctor?" she asked, her eyes narrowing at him suspiciously. "You've taken us to the wrong place again, haven't you?" she questioned dangerously.

"Not the wrong place . . ."

"The wrong time then," she answered, her hands poised dangerously upon her hips. "Well, how far off are we this time?"

"Oh, no more than about," - he paused briefly to gauge the time and Cecily fully expected him to go and lick something in order to make his estimate - "nine hundred and eighty . . . four years," he answered casually. "Give or take a few months."

"Nine hundred and eight-four years," Cecily repeated. Such glanced at the three travelers she had spotted in the distance and suddenly realized that the Doctor _hand't_ licked or sniffed anything, or used any of his super time-lord senses to determine their place in time, but merely gazed at the group in question.

"Then those are . . ."

"No, Cecily," he said strongly, with a rare sternness in his voice. "You cannot go over there. You cannot talk to them. You cannot touch them. Anything you do or say to them might disrupt your own time line. You could create a paradox and cause a crack in fabric of time that would destroy the entire universe."

"Oh stop being so melodramatic," she complained. "I only wanted to say 'hi'. Plus, they'll have a pikachu on them. You promised me a pikachu, Doctor."

"No, no and no, Cecily Hannako Slate," he said, calling out her full name in the same way that her mother did when she didn't want her to do something. She raised a single copper coloured eyebrow in his direction, challenging him on the sudden address.

"Cecily, please," he almost begged. "Look, I haven't met your grandmother, but if she is anything like your mother, then I really do think it's best that we stand right over here where it's safe."

"Oh, c'mon, Doctor," she pleaded playfully. "Nana Misty isn't that bad. What's the worst that could happen?"

The Doctor scowled. "Paradox," he answered, "crack in fabric of time. Weird time monster things that eat people's faces and delete them from existence.

"And she might slap me," he finished sulkily. "Or mallet me. You told me she has a mallet."

"Pfft," Cecily answered. "She only ever uses that thing on Pop. You'll be fine." The Doctor did not look amused by her attempted humour, or appeased by the concession.

"Cecily," he said warningly, "they're going to take one look at you and know exactly where you came from. Which means the three of them will know their future. And believe me when I say, there is nothing more dangerous to anyone in existence than knowing their own future."

Cecily frowned at him, quickly realizing the seriousness of the situation. "Okay, Doctor," she acquiesced. "What shall we do?"

"We'll just . . . stay here where it's safe," he told her seriously. "Just wait for them to pass and then I promise I'll show you that pikachu, Cecily."

"Okay," Cecily agreed, leaning gently into his side. "We'll wait."

* * *

"Does anyone else see a blue phone booth in the middle of that field over there?" Brock asked, pointing in the direction without actually looking at the box in question. It was rather strange, because whenever he tried to look at it, he found he couldn't actually see it and that he'd end up looking around the strange box as though it wasn't really there.

Ash and Misty both looked in the direction he pointed too, neither really seeing the item in question through the psychic field. "Not really, Brock-o," Ash replied.

"Did you want to sit for awhile or something?" Misty asked concernedly. "We're making good time."

"No," Brock said quickly, some sense telling them it was better that they move on. "We'll stop when we're out of this area. I'm just getting a creepy feeling like we're not suppose to be here."

They both looked at him questioningly, but moved on all the same.

As he glanced back over his shoulder, he could almost make out one of the figures standing beside the box. She had hair as bright as Misty's, but messy and fly away like Ash's, and her eyes dark and narrowed like his own. There was a strange familiarity and he could see himself, his friends, and the love of his life all combined within her features.

_'Could it be?'_ he wondered but shook the idea out of his thoughts. It was impossible and he was simply seeing what he wanted to see, his mind bended by the psychic field.

It would only be years later as his eldest grand daughter - the daughter of his second son, Arthur, and Ash and Misty's eldest daughter, Isabelle - ran away with a strange man in a blue box that he would believe what he had seen. And only then would he realize how his own future was changed because of it.

~FIN~

How many of of you totally freaked out and thought that Cecily meant gymshipping? I mean, really, do you have so little faith in me? I did try to drop a few hints in there about maternal lines and what not to try and reassure you, but I'm not sure many would have caught that.

I think this just shows that I have been watching too much **Doctor Who**. Oh well, I still kinda like this one even though Misty and Ash are hardly even in it. It must be the second generation gymbouldershipping, because you know that's gonna happen.


	8. Rubberband

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

In response to a challenge by **Bittersweet Romanticide** contained in **Unnerved**. As with most of these drabbles, the actual content of the drabble is only loosely connected to the FF vs RL intro and I do apologize to anyone offended by it.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon.

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: Rubberband

**

* * *

Fan fiction vs. Real life #8**

In fan fiction, poor impulse control is responsible for one out of every five kisses related to UST.

In real life, poor impulse control is responsible (at least according to some psychological theories) for drug and alcohol dependence, petty crime, domestic violence, psychopathic behaviour, sexual deviance, academic underperformance, unemployment, divorce . . .

* * *

"And what exactly is this supposed to do?" Ash asked, fingering the tan coloured rubberband situated around his wrist.

Misty rolled her eyes and plucked fiercely at the band around her own wrist, letting is snap painfully at her skin. "Ow," she muttered before taking a breath. "It's supposed to help cure you."

"Cure me of –"

"OW!"

There was a yelp of pain from Brock as he performed a similar action to Misty with the band on his own wrist. "Sorry," he called out to them across the room, "it just starts to get really painful if you do it too often. I'll try to control myself."

Misty shook her head. Brock was clearly going to be the toughest case, but she was determined to help them all grow through their issues.

"It's therapy," she answered Ash. "Mine is to help me manage my anger. Brock's is to help turn him into a less perverted freak. Yours is to help you with your impulse control."

"Okay, I get you and Brock, but what's wrong with my impulse control?"

Misty raised a sceptical eyebrow as she watched him inch a hand towards Pikachu's tail as the mouse snoozed nearby. Before he could complete whatever action he was considering, she pulled on the rubberband until it was taut and let it snap painfully back to his wrist.

"OW!" Ash cried, jumping to his feet and rubbing a hand at his aching wrist. "What was that for?"

"That was me saving you from a hell of a lot more hurt," she glared. "You're seriously going to ask me what's wrong with your impulse control? You, who has jumped off cliffs and into raging rivers and ran head first into clearly haunted castles and dangerous forests and all other kinds of ridiculous, impulsive escapades?

"The problem is you don't have any!" she answered furiously, rising to her feet and placing her hands on her hips. "You just do whatever comes to – OW!" she cried out loudly as Ash snapped the rubberband upon her wrist. "What the hell was that for?" Ash just grinned and repeated the action.

"I think I get how these work now," he grinned, holding her at arms length. "You've got to snap it whenever you get too angry, right?" he surmised. "And Brock when he wants to do something perverted.

"Unlike you two, I'm perfectly sane, but I suppose I'm supposed to snap mine whenever I want to do something impulsive," he guessed. "That's really stupid you know. I mean, if I want to do something impulsive I'm not gonna take a moment to think 'hmm, this is impulsive' and then snap the rubberband. I'm just gonna do it because that's what impulsive people do."

"Then I'll just have to do it for you," Misty huffed and then snapped his rubberband for him just to show him how committed she was to her task.

"That was uncalled for," Ash told her sternly. "I wasn't thinking anything."

"Not surprising," Misty muttered. "Oi!" she cried as she saw him reaching for her wrist. "What do you think you're doing with that, Mister?"

"Sarcasms just anger without the inflection," Ash retorted smugly.

"Big word, Ketchum," she said sarcastically. "And that wasn't sarcasm," she lied, dragging her wrist out of his reach, "I was being sardonic.

"And even if I was being sarcastic," she said, her voice rising, "sarcasm isn't anger, it's wit. I was just being witty," she assured him with a sweet smile.

"I thought sarcasm was supposed to be the lowest form of wit?" Ash question with a teasing grin that earned him a snap at his rubberband – apparently goading/taunting Misty was the type of impulsive behaviour he was supposed to be avoiding.

"That's only because most people don't do it right," she argued on behalf of her beloved sarcasm.

"Ohh, Misty, you seem to be getting a little heated there," he continued to taunt. "Do you want me to help you with that?" Ash Ketchum, apparently, had not yet learnt his lesson.

"Stop it, Ash," she warned him, "it hurts if you do it too much."

He paused briefly, Misty's hurt tone almost sounding serious, but once again his poor impulse control got the better of him. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" he asked teasingly.

Misty rolled her eyes and offered her wrist towards him. "Go ahead then," she muttered sarcastically with a daring glare. "I know you want to."

And so Ash did, lifting her wrist towards him and pressing his lips lightly to the reddened patch of skin.

"What the hell did you just do?" Misty gaped as she dragged her hand back towards her. She cradled the offended wrist against her body and gave him frightened, disbelieving looks.

"Um . . . well . . ." Ash started, looking equally terrorized by his own behaviour. "Apparently I have really poor impulse control," he replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "and . . . well . . . when things get in my head, I just do them without thinking. And then you said –"

"Oh, do not put this on me, Ketchum," she said, cutting him off in anger. "You're the one who put his gross lips on my perfect, unblemished, virgin wrist.

"And why on earth are you blushing _now_?" she asked as Ash turned distinctly red.

He looked sheepish. "You said virgin."

Misty rolled her eyes. "It's a synonym. It means untouched, and until you went and touched me with your nasty lips, that's what I was. Now I'm contaminated and it's all your fault, Ketchum.

"Don't," she added aggressively as Ash made to reach for her rubberband. "This is justified anger and you can't judge me for that."

"Fine," Ash replied, "but I wouldn't judge you anyway."

"Oh really," Misty retorted sarcastically, tugging at the rubberband on her wrist in order to bite back a more cutting remark.

"Yeah," Ash responded. He began to reach for the rubberband on his own wrist, seeming to understand that what he was about to say fell into that category of impulsive behaviour that the rubberband would prevent him from yeilding to, but then changed his mind, deciding to say it anyway.

"I like you, Misty," he told her sincerely. "Just the way you are."

And then he did something _really_ impulsive; he leaned close and pressed his lips to her cheek – her virgin cheek – pulling back after less than a second and disappearing before she could yell at him.

Misty snapped the rubberband, just once against her wrist. She wasn't angry. She just wanted to make sure that it was real.

The stinging pain in her wrist confirmed it.

~FIN~

When I read 'rubberband' I immediately thought anger management therapy for Misty, and realized she probably wasn't the only one in need of a little therapy. And given that Ash's poor impulse control is so well used in fanfiction that it's practically its own trope, I couldn't resist throwing that in and voila. The RL comes from some experiment involving marshmallows that we looked at in first year psych. I don't remember the details, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the Dunedin Study only because nearly everything in first year psych at a New Zealand university is to do with the Dunedin Study.


	9. Don't Wish

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

I'm only a total drabble roll right now. Hope you like this.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon.

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: Don't Wish

**

* * *

Fan fiction vs. Real life #9**

In fan fiction, any wish will inevitably go really badly and will generally teach the protagonist some sort of life lesson about how they should be grateful for what they've got.

In real life, the following 'wish granters' do not exist: genies, Jirachi, fairies, The Unown (to some degree), leprechauns, Santa (unless you are under the age of 13 and then he totally does), Satan (using the term 'wish granter' very loosely), tree demons, altruistic billionaires, Angels, and various other mythical creatures.

* * *

"So the deal is I get three wishes, right?" Misty asked, giving the genie an almost beligrent look. "And you've got to do anything I ask, right?"

The genie nodded tiredly, as though he had been going over these general circumstances for the last hour and a half. "Provided you keep within the rules," he cautioned blandly. "I can't kill anyone. I can't make someone fall in love with you. Yada yada yada."

"I know," Misty nodded and gave him condescending look, "but there's ways around that obviously."

"What?" the genie gaped, shocked at what she was insinuating.

"Well you said that I couldn't raise a person from the dead, but you didn't say that you couldn't make a perfect clone of someone with the same personality," she shrugged vaguely. "And you said YOU couldn't kill anybody, but you didn't say I couldn't wish that somebody else killed someone or wish that they be put in a situation where they will inevitably die.

"And you said that I couldn't make someone fall in love with me, but you didn't say I couldn't wish that all his other romantic prospects were attracted to somebody else and didn't want him because they all found him physically unattractive so that he'd have no choice but to end up with me," she finished succinctly.

"And that's what you want me to do?" the genie questioned, hoping to speed through her three wishes a bit faster. "You want me to ensure that every one of Ash Ketchum's romantic interests has somebody else, thus leaving you as the only viable option?"

Misty's eyes widened in disbelief and she gave him an even more condescending look than before. "Why on earth would I want that?" Misty asked snootily, her nose creased in disdain.

The genie rolled his eyes. "Oh right, 'cos you're totally not in love with Ash Ketchum," he muttered sarcastically, Misty's easy solution to his all-powerful limits making him bitter.

Misty glared in response. "Did I say I was finished?" she asked bitingly as the genie shrunk back at her anger. "As I was saying, why would anyone want that? Knowing that a person was only with you because you were their only option left? I bet that's _really good_ for your self-esteem.

"You really think I want Ash to be with me just because Gary is suddenly straight and inexplicably drawn to my sisters, or because May has Drew, and Dawn has Zoey?" she questioned sarcastically. "Or because Brock, no matter how desperate he gets, will never change teams?

"Bouldershipping is sick," she added as a totally unnecessary aside, her face wrinkled in disgust. "That's practically incest, or at least psychological incest. They're like brothers and you're sick for trying to taint that with your sick fantasies," she accused the genie darkly.

"I-I nev-"

"Now what I want," Misty began, cutting off his protests indifferently, "is one of every species of water Pokémon on the planet. I want to be able to eat as much dessert as I like without ever putting on weight. And I want a hot cabana boy who will serve all my needs here at the gym."

"You've got to say 'I wish'," the genie reminded her drolly.

Misty gave him a sarcastic look. "Do I really look like the "I wish I may I wish I might" kinda girl?" she asked him.

The genie shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Those are the rules. I can't do your bidding until you say the magic words."

"Fine then," Misty conceded, "I wish for the stuff I said before. Pokémon, desserts, and cabana boy," she told him, listing the items on her fingers.

"Done," the genie nodded, happy to be free of the arrangement. "Don't you think you were a little selfish in your wishes?" he asked casually. "You could have included something for your friends."

Misty shrugged indifferently. "Let them find their own genie."

* * *

"So you really can't make someone fall in love with me?"

The genie almost groaned in frustration. "For the last time, May, no I cannot make anyone fall in love."

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly, her tone almost desperate.

"Yes, I'm sure," he replied, dragging a palm across his face.

"But maybe you're just not doing it right so you need to try again," she tried hopefully.

"It's not that I'm incapable," the genie explained slowly. "It's the rules. Apparently they're not very good rules and certain people are able to get around it with very little effort."

"Evil people?" May asked anxiously, her mouth agape.

The genie thought about this for a moment and then nodded solemnly in response. "Yes, very evil people."

May gasped at the thought before cautiously asking for more. "Could . . . could I get around it?"

"Yes," the genies answered, "anybody could. But apparently it's not very satisfying to have a person be with you solely because they couldn't be with anyone else."

May frowned. "You're right. That doesn't sound very good."

"So now that we've established the limits," the genie tried, "are you ready to make your wishes?"

"I guess," May nodded cautiously. She made a quick cough to clear her throat and then began. "Genie light, Genie bright. First genie I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have these three wishes come true tonight." The genie discretely rolled his eyes to accompany her speech.

"I wish that Drew would be less of a jerk to me at contests – not nice or anything, just less of a jerk please," she began in a tone distant and dreamy. "I wish I had a Milotic. And I wish that all my friends will find happiness."

"Anything else?" the genie asked drily. He considered her last request to really be pushing the boundaries of his powers.

"I get more wishes?" May gaped in surprise.

"Never mind," the genie waved off quickly. "Your wish is my command. See yah."

* * *

"Are you sure you can't make anyone fall in love with me?" Brock asked desperately. "It could be anyone. I'm not fussy. Just someone. Anyone will do!"

"No," the genie said. "I'm sorry, Brock. No matter how worthy your plea seems, it would be against the rules to grant that wish.

"I really am sorry," the genie said once more, seeming to actually like this particular master. "There's a way around it, sort of, but it's not particularly effective and needs to be aimed at a particular person."

"It's fine," Brock replied, "but thank you for trying all the same.

"Hmmm," he continued thoughtfully, "I think . . . yes, that should work. I wish I could meet my soul mate one hour from now at that tree over there," he said, pointing to a redwood standing in the corner. "I wish I could have my own breeding centre."

The genie nodded, the beginnings of Brock's wishes seeming reasonable.

"And I wish that Ash and Misty would admit their feelings for one another," Brock finished with a wide grin. He was already imagining the peace that would come from Ash and Misty's 'Unresolved Sexual Tension' being resolved, as well as all the opportunities he would have to taunt them over their past denials.

The genie frowned. "You know I can't make him fall in love with her," he reminded his soon to be former master. "No genie could."

Brock nodded sagely, unfazed by the genie's obscure knowledge. He smiled to himself as he formed his simple reply. "That shouldn't be a problem."

* * *

"Wow, Misty, where'd you get all these cool water Pokémon from?" Ash stated as he glanced around the very full habitat at the Cerulean gym.

"Just around," Misty answered vaguely.

"I can't believe you have a keldeo," Ash gaped as a pony like creature trotted up to them. Misty held out a sugar cube to the Pokémon, and it greedily ate it up before planting a sloppy kiss on Misty's cheek.

"When did you go to Unova?" he asked her eagerly. His face fell a moment later as he realized the full implications of her being in Unova. "How come you didn't visit me?" he pouted sadly and gave his best friend a disappointed look.

Misty rolled her eyes as she gathered Pikachu into her arms, running her fingers through the Pokémon's golden fur. "I didn't go to Unova, Ash," she replied. "Keldeo was a gift.

"Do you really think I'd go to Unova and not visit you?" she asked him with a teasing smile, lightly slapping his shoulder and letting her hand linger unnecessarily. "You're the only reason I'd go there to begin with," she added quietly.

Ash grinned, his cheeks flushing at the implied meaning even though he wasn't conscious of this hidden layer to her words. They held eye contact for a moment, until the hidden emotions got much for Misty and she had to do something to distract herself.

"Diego!" she called snapping her fingers in the air. The scantily clad cabana boy arrived promptly at her whim. "I need you to file the taxes for this month on the food bills and file an application with council for an expansion of the gym. After that I want you to get me a banana split with no almonds and god help you if I see a single almond," she warned, raising her pimp hand strong. "Go!" she commanded dangerously, sending him away.

He left quickly, and then promptly tripped over his own feet as Misty's sisters walked by him. Misty sighed loudly, muttering some comment under her breath about how she had wasted her wish and should have just wished for psyduck to evolve and be done with it. Pikachu jumped away, too afraid to stay where he was when she got that dangerous look in her eyes.

"Ash, if you had a genie offering you three wishes, what would you ask for?" she asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Ash shrugged as he stopped to think about her questions. "Do the standard limitations apply?" he asked.

Misty nodded. "Technically," she nodded. "Who were you going to kill?" she grinned at him.

Ash smiled. "You," he answered teasingly, "but I'd bring you right back to life. I just wanted to be able to say I killed you."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Total waste of two wishes," she muttered.

"Yeah, well, maybe to you," Ash shrugged. "Okay I got them," he said after a little more time to think about the question. "I'd want all the Pokémon in the world. And I'd want to be able to make hamburgers appear out of thin air. And I'd want a six pack."

"That's it?" Misty asked. "That's kind of lame."

Ash shrugged. "I only really wanted the first one and everything else I wanted is excluded by the three rules."

"Okay, then pretend that the three rules don't apply," Misty suggested. "What would you wish for then?"

"All the Pokémon," Ash responded immediately, his tone casual. "Bring my dad back. Make you fall in love with me."

Misty nodded thoughtfully at his response until the words slowly sunk into her brain. She blinked in bewilderment, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find the words. "Did you just – " she gaped. "Are you saying –

"Can you . . . can you repeat that last one?" she asked him shyly, holding her breath as she awaited his answer.

He smiled, moving closer to her and seeming suddenly confident. "I wish," he said lowly, leaning his head towards her, "that Misty Waterflower would fall in love with me."

She gasped at his words, but a sudden movement by Ash stifled it as he descended his lips upon hers. It was only a brief touch of lip-to-lip contact before he pulled away, but it left her head feeling light and dizzy all the same (although that might have been due to lack of air).

As he pulled away, he looked deeply into her eyes for the answer to his own unresolved question. She smiled lightly, and he knew then that the answer was obvious before she even said the words.

"Wish granted."

~FIN~

Genies are so awesome - they're like the perfect excuse for an unprompted, out of character confession of love. I'm surprised I didn't think of using one earlier.

Anyone catch the Family Guy reference? Just me then . . .


	10. After Life

**Fan Fiction vs. Real Life**

A/N: I found this in one of my old notebooks, and thought it was kind of cute and worth posting. Hope you enjoy.

Fan Fiction vs. Real Life: After Life

* * *

**Fanfiction vs. Real Life #10:**

In fanfiction, the best love stories don't have endings.

In real life, nothing lasts forever.

* * *

"Ash, when I die, I don't want you to remarry," Misty told him seriously, her confession completely unprompted. "I don't want you replacing me."

Ash smiled gently, stroking her hand in what many years together had taught him was a comforting manner. "Misty," he said tenderly, "No one could ever replace you."

"Well, duh," Misty agreed. "I know that . . . but all the same . . ." she continued weakly, feeling a little insecure.

"Look, Ash, I understand that you have 'needs' and all," she told him, lifting her hands for the finger quotes. "But you're just going to have to deal with those needs alone."

"Alright, Myst," he said with an amused look, feeling no need to disagree. He rested back on the couch, thinking that was the end of the discussion and that Misty would join him now that things had been laid to rest.

Of course, this was Misty Waterflower-Ketchum he was talking about, so he should have known better than to think that would be the end of it.

"Ash, I'm serious!" she exclaimed, obviously deciding he was being way too casual about the issue. "I don't want to look down from heaven" - Ash said nothing at her presumptiveness – "and she you getting your jollies with some slut like Dawn or May or Melody . . ." she trailed off before practically hissing her last words, "or that bitch, Angie . . ."

Ash sighed, sitting back up. "Misty, you can't talk about your friends like that," he admonished.

"Maybe May and Dawn," Misty shrugged, unchastised. "Which is why I think they'll understand how much it would dishonour my memory for them to try and nab you just because I'm out of the picture."

"Misty, they're both in serious relationships," he argued. "Dawn just got engaged and May has been living with Drew for nearly five years."

Again she shrugged. "I was living with a boy when we got together," she answered nonchalantly.

"Misty, your cousin Flynn doesn't count."

"Fine," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. It was so rare for Misty to relent on anything, that even that seemed like some kind of victory to Ash.

"It's beside the point, anyway," Misty continued a moment later.

"Which is?" Ash asked, almost afraid to find out what this was leading to.

Misty huffed with annoyance, as though he really ought to have known the answer himself. "Which is that I don't want you having another girl in your life after I die," she said moodily, blushing a little as she said the words aloud. It was more sentimental than Misty generally liked to admit to, so unsurprisingly she went on to alleviate that embarrassment.

"You could get a boyfriend," she added lightly. "I probably wouldn't mind that. You and Gary could hook up. Or Ritchie maybe.

"The point is," she reiterated, ignoring the way her husband shuddered at her suggestions – these were two of his closest friends, after all. "The point is that the only feminine hands I want touching your penis when I'm gone are your own."

Ash let out a throaty growl at her comment. "Misty – for the last time – I do not have feminine hands," he complained loudly.

Misty rolled her eyes. "Sure you don't, Ashy," she answered sarcastically. "They're so sweet and tiny and soft," she told him as she traced her fingers across the creases of his palm. "Like a woman's."

He wrenched his hand away with a unhappy glare. "They only look so small 'cos your hands are freakishly huge," he sulked.

Misty shook her head, still not the slightest bit sympathetic to his sad looks.

"Look, I don't even know why I'm bringing it up," she said, drawing them back to where the conversation was before they got distracted by the brief tangent. "I mean, it's probably irrelevant anyway – given your lifestyle choices.

"I think it's quite obvious which one of us is going to outlast the other," she concluded.

"Does that mean you won't find anyone after I die?" he asked with a warm smile, thinking this was one of those sweet moments with Misty he could tell their kids about some time in the future. (Just as soon as he edited out all mentions of his penis.)

"Oh, please," Misty replied sardonically, scoffing at the suggestion. "I'll probably hook up with Gary at your funeral.

"Or Brock," she said after giving the question a little more thought. "It'll probably be Brock. And we'll feel really bad about it afterwards, but he'll come to comfort me and one thing will lead to another . . ."

Ash didn't even mention the fact that Brock was happily married. Or even that Brock pretty much thought of Misty as a little sister. Instead he just firmly demanded that Brock be banned from his funeral, and even suggested that segregate by gender.

"I'll really miss you when you die, Ash," Misty told him, smiling beatifically as she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"I'll miss you too, Myst."

He leaned back on the couch, Misty curling into his side as they sat in quiet, contemplative silence.

"I still don't want you to remarry," Misty said again, her voice low and her head ducked against his chest.

"I know, Myst," he said.

~ FIN ~


End file.
